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stillagain

last
the dates seemed far away
but stars –
they huddled near
shuffled with the wing’eds
early clay

of weeping then
I know you heard
my crying on the wind –
begged you come
another
yesterday

worried not
for leaving
or what tomorrow knew
of places still
unwritten – leaving
left undue

will poets tell
of all we felt –
of mercies spilled to rhyme
gathered first as angels
to the pen

memorizing
times before –
were sworn to keep us still
falling into reasons
for missing time
again

. . .