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E S T U A R Y
jawline twitch
and dusk streaming
like a hot needle
the shaft of hope
between the drawn
curtian
before night sweeps
clean the shadows
and fires her stars
with dreams
that fall
burning
without sound
and the hollow
acruement
of the hours
when I leave
this door
when the mirror
is quiet
and says no more
I shall think of
smokey seasons
eve
and remember
where that ache
shall stay
Editing stage:
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Comments
Esker
Thu, 2011-10-06 19:29
Lonnie
Thank you for your comments
with this gift
I create
admitting that the great thing about Neopoet
is its freedom that it governs by poets
for poets That our works are our beauty
our rawness our refined subtle solutions
and quests
Esker
Fri, 2011-10-21 11:13
strange how a phonecall will do this
in a lonely room
fill that well
of bitter ache
with sweet dreams
(my Mermaid,,Let me count the ways I Love Thee!)