Photo Challenge# 81 and Wordle #219 and Poetry Prompt 2
The wind presses in,
A tender nexus,
A threat unpronounced
And riddled with summations.
I call to her,
She is standing
To my right, a list flush
Against her lips.
I wonder if she’ll share
Her hopes with me,
If she’ll give me something
To occupy my heart
That I may swear my love
To her satisfaction
Or if she’ll hold to noise
As people often do?
I wonder if our love,
Though now only an omen,
Will be as all loves inevitably
Are, the one, worth dying for?
–
Today as each day since
I have stood too long
In the traffic of my brain,
In the great cauldron
Of my edacious heart
Troubled by gossip
And screwed up tighter
Than a mechanical vice.
The dying has made me old
Though I am not old
And the loving has made me
Brittle as a coal miner’s canary.
I would do it all again
If not for the wind
Which has shifted me
Into an alternative space.
Perhaps I bit off a bit much this time. I focused on emotions as opposed to scenery.
mindlovemisery 