Thursday, August 27, 2009


My flickering memory
makes me love things
that never were.
When evening light
filters through the sky
All is golden, soft, hopeful
Echoes of love call to me
pulling my heart to you

But the fragments of my life
are jagged
I gather them carefully
avoiding the pain
Every shard scattered, hidden
deferring critical mass

Love shrivelled
I shake the pods-
is there a seed to plant?

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