Oh god, woodsmoke tang
ankle deep in gold red surf
dry waves skitter along the walk
Mornings are slow and mineral
Scraping rime from the windows
Through a haze of breath
In the evening sun of liquid gold
the car pulls to the curb, door opens
memories spill into the blue
Fissured heart wraps around phantoms
squeezing blood and warmth to arms
sore from flailing, catching cold
but not you.
08 November 2010
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beautiful imagery....grasping at thin air.
ReplyDeleteDreamy , lovely , touching, love it ~
ReplyDeletei love the way you describe the seasons, Kevin. you really paint with words (and NOT by the number!!!)
ReplyDeleteLovely. Touching. Sad. You always capture a moment so well.
ReplyDeleteSadness spills out here as well. I know the feeling of grieving someone who is still around.
ReplyDeleteThis one reminds me of your brother...so much longing.
ReplyDelete