05 Friday Feb 2016
Posted in Poetry, Storytelling, verse
years are gathered
unto me –
til I can’t breathe
the night
or see beyond
another crimson dawn
where I have come
repenting
for days (these miles)
between
hands I know by heart
(let them pray)
for memories –
some other life
(where I have loved
you well)
where silence waits
to steal my heart
from sleep
. . .
Image: Medicine Woman Seeking Solitude, 1915, courtesy Library of Congress
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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