Poetry, Structured Free Verse


still so much to say
in the chill of this early afternoon
when even the Sun upon my cheek
no longer warms me

my eyes trace Mother Earth’s patterns,
a barren Ent stands outside my window…

where are you,
in those twisted branches of discontent?

you are lost to me

look how tangled we have become –
yet unraveled, brittle & broken
in places of strength
we foolishly believed existed

in Infinity

find the weakest limb to heal
for it is the one that binds us

between you & I


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