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colors

wake this soul
some distant dawn
warmth before the body goes
before the last
eternity –
speak of love
that I might know

of pages
I was smitten here
heaven held between the lines
wasted come
the morning news –
to steal of days
this mortal rhyme

quiet stirs
in wordless breath –
as sweetly drawn
within
the memory
where dreamed
I loved –
awakens me again

when sworn to less
I cannot bear
the giving up to leave
a change of plans
a path disturbed
of longing
– how
I grieve

. . .

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