Saturday, May 4, 2013

Poesy: Thrice


Perhaps when you came
you took it all:
the beauty, the youth,
the confidence.
You gathered them as a fresh-picked bouquet
and closed the gate behind you.
Sleeping sweetly beneath my mother's blanket,
your soft sighs sweeten the edges of the quilt.
I pop in to the room to check,
even for just a moment,
that you and I are still connected
and you haven't left yet,
and neither have I.


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