My hands, shaking now,Freeze at the thought of your loss,My Muse, I beg that you stay. My hands, steady yet.Wrapped around your foolish throat,Why would I ever leave you?
Tag: Dialogue Poem
From the Midlands to the City
Outside my window,The thrush tweets in the warm air,A song I wish you could hear. I stopped to listen,The city noises ring loud,But I hear you, still, singing.
An Unearned Repreive
Please, grant me some rest, I cannot think anymore, I want sleep, maybe to dream. My poor, dear poet, the wicked earn no reprieve, now get back to work, my love.
Tree and Blossoms
Do blossoms recall,Dancing along the river,Even when Spring fades away? Spring blooms are fickle,Winds carry them far away,But they remember, always.
Discarded Recollections 