Back Again
Just when I think
all is shiny red
and wrapped tight
with my best bow
there you are
again, whispering
at the foot of my
bed
asking for things
that dropped out
of my pockets
more years ago
than I can number
hunting for the
crumbs of me
at the bottom
of my favorite
dream and slumber
you come calling
me
back again
calling me
slack again
and I can't
say a thing
lies to night
of mourning
bring
me
back again
1 comment:
Love the poem. Thanks for stopping by my blog. I enjoy your writing and am glad to be part of your book tour.
Post a Comment