It had rattled my sleep and comfort.
I thought: To write, now,
After all of this. And I cried,
Struggling to do it,
“It’s lost. I can’t retrieve
It” – it already slipping
My fingers like a kite string –
“And nothing will be the same.”
Then you gave me your hand,
Replacing my emptiness with
A purpose to hold.
No comments:
Post a Comment