I have seen an old woman Sitting in a rocking chair The warmth of the desert sun Shining on her through the front window Surrounded
Tag: fiction
The Poet – part 2
Was it a sequence Of words Drifting in and out Like the last time I tried to sleep Through the Drowning sands With silica dreams
Float Away
I can hold you In my arms And tell you All the lies You’ve been longing To hear And mean Every word I say Because
Common Ground
If you could see What I see In those moments when You’re most vulnerable You might recognize Through the haze Of your sadness There is
Hand of a Stranger
I may smile at you But it stops there I don’t have much To give you Some words Nothing much at all There are spaces
That Day
She once whispered to me Of things which truly matter Only once will I say this She told me It is then up to you
