Afraid of facing the world
But I miss the sun.
Here
The space forgotten between
In and out.
I’ll make this home.
Poetry. Photography. Thoughts On The Way Of Things.
Afraid of facing the world
But I miss the sun.
Here
The space forgotten between
In and out.
I’ll make this home.
Quiet like
Sun and cold wind slipping
Through parchment thin curtains
With the breath of new morning.
We sleep on.
Autumn is
Your vicious misdirection.
A sea of orange and red
Vibrant and eternal-
Lost and at peace.
When your horizon is burdened
With cold steel clouds,
And winds hurling harsh water-
Remember the sun will still burn
Just behind the veil,
Long after your light fades.
I can still smell
Your soft Lilac smoke.
The sound of laughter from the bottom of you
Like peals of sunrise
And the smile you left me
When you stopped being here.
When you look up over your book
And your eyes flash
In the sunlight falling between your eyelashes
I am embers,
In the fire that is you.
What you call hiding,
I call waiting
Waiting for that delicate moment
To unleash the tumbling stars
And burning moons
that make me.
You should be lonely They say.
Hurling that sharp word
Trying to cut those of us
Who don’t need others to feel alive.
“You won’t have a chance to forget,” she said.
“The end of the Earth can’t keep you from me.”
And in the last fading glow of sunset,
As the shadows bent forward into darkening dusk,
We said our goodbyes.
The warm waves of your voice,
That satin river.
I’m so easily lost
In the swirls and rivulets
Of your quiet greeting.