Hail, hail, the night brings blogging hours! And I have no time for comments and posts. I meant to write something profound, but I’m heading for bed, instead. I must stop reading others’ blogs, writing comments, etc. I’m simply TOO TIRED! I’ll leave you with another poem from my archives.
I want to live his memories
with fingers free to mourn
his words that fall as crumbs to birds,
their scraps caught up by storms.
I want to breathe his breath, my last,
inside the heart of wind,
the taste of rain a teasing sense
that lingers in my mind.
I want to view his city’s streets,
the windows dark and cold,
with fires burning inwardly
for lighting up the stones.
I want to disappear tonight
inside his vacant house,
where time waits in his empty suit
that shivers on the couch.
I want to hear him whispering
in notes that signal death;
they stretch beyond the willow twigs
that rattle in the hearth.
To live in death, I hold my breath.
I knock on doors shut tight
and wait for lock-pick bands of light
to throw those hinges wide.