last a stinging
vine of verse
was wound around my heart –
words were let
(remember how they hurt)

of solace kept alive
once more –
the strain for making rhyme
left me waiting here
– another time

of winters snowed
behind us –
a day (almost the same)
beneath a sky
this blue
I held your name

forgotten now
the meter –
breath (before the break)
one more verse
– was more than I
could take

. . .