 |
| photo by PSC / 2011 |
Everlasting
She dreamed of him
again last night
in the wee hours, writhing
amid twisted sheets
beneath
the full
Chaste moon
(some call it
a Wind moon);
and the wind crooned
a melancholy lullaby
that only stoked,
stroked
her inconsolable
sorrow,
causing it to
rise
like a sea tide
at the moon’s behest,
her essence, her entire soul
refusing to be soothed;
the unceasing song
gnawing
at her bones
and she,
reeling at the loss,
upon awakening
still feeling the connection,
their bond remaining
unbroken
PSC / 2019-Apr
No comments:
Post a Comment