Wednesday, May 30, 2012

sonnet one hundred twenty three

there never would be a
better time to start a poem
more than a simple thought
of you - laughing, gazing,

dancing to the light and
singing to the midnight
and even when you could not
see me you know i would

pick up a word somewhere
- to exalt your name,
ever so radiant, ever so complete

crushed by the harrowing
silence of waters and deserts
between us, still holding on.

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