What calling in your mind’s ear
stole you from these sheets
inscribed by inks of breathlessness
and marks of love we made?
Yours … a world of wonders.
Mine … a spectral plane,
wherein I wait abandoned
with tears to test your name.
Palisade the path pursued;
a feather as footprints fall,
but know for inch or milestone gained,
our bed becomes my ghastly grave.
Abeyance … a gift from absence.
Now this man’s days are one
threadbare tapestry … hung in the hall
of the human heart undone.
Author notes
Image from a Moya Brennan-related website.
In a list
A contest entry
- The sun in my soul's sinking lower while the hope in my hands turns to clay. by coloringmysenses.
1750 points, ended July 22, 32 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I could feel as I was reading this the way that my heart picked up speed just a little bit. I enjoyed the emotion you put into this.
Great job and thank you for entering. <3
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