30 Monday Dec 2019
Posted in Poetry, spirituality
sleep folds
her tender locks
around me
and that which
I worried o’er is lessened
scattered atop
an ancient spread –
I cling to the light
of consciousness
fretting a moment
for all
I’ve forgotten
to save
. . .
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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tornadoday 
I enjoyed this. I especially liked the ending,
“I cling to the light
of consciousness
fretting a moment
for all
I’ve forgotten
to save”
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
…and her dreams
are all there were…xo