A year ago,
a shared joint
between strangers.
Now,
we only share
the tired look
in our eyes.
Tag: poems
Moon Crescents
Only good things are coming,
The wind is changing
There’s a frightened horizon
Banging on the door
The whispers leave footprints
And the moon crescents above
Tiny Buried Star
I want you all to know
I want you all to know
That I was there and saw a face
That I was there and saw a face
I came upon a little house
I came upon a little house
And well within that little house
A tiny, buried star
A star kept cradled in a bed
And deep within that burning bed
A mote of fear
A mote of love
A brightly burning life.
