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asI

there’s a shadow
to my collar –
where once a scar was new
and late one night
I shared my ache
with you

as a whisper
down the mountain –
a twine of glories flame
like the mist above the river
bears my name

not for verse
am I returning –
not for one more curs’ed rhyme
but for arms
around me folded –
I’m inclined

to remember
every promise –
the scent of winter hay
love
long after life
is swept away

shall I wait
your last tomorrow –
for a prayer before I go
into realms
where hearts are learning
all I know

. . .

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