Your laugh, lilting like lines
Flung from a fiddle fair,
Sweeping sweetly o’er the shaded field
Where once we were young
Now echoes only in my mind,
In memories, clouded-
A Pine forest in the morning mist,
A bridge fogged over
Until there can be no certainty
That there is another side-
Only in this hollow palce
Does that joyful sound
Now ring, now roll, now rise.
And how I long to hear it once again
Ripple across the deep blue ocean of your eyes.
Against the fog
The stanchions of the bridge
Stand solitary, alone
Rising from the void
Of hazy white
As if someone has just painted them there
And left the canvas uncluttered
With any notion of a destination ahead
That we might journey into the yet unimagined
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MOST RECENT POEMS OF THE DAY
January 22, 2021
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December 18, 2020
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