We have the memories,
their hands
raking our ground,
almost waking
the dirt of our past.
You’re here,
never needing
to hang on to the things
we each grew out of,
laughing about the fires
that burn us away
to take us back
clean and bright,
calling aloud to us
to breathe.
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3 comments:
Jill- The brevity of this poem speaks volumes. I've noticed you do that often. Your pen has a nice touch.
Nice poem Jill. I always like the pace and voice of your poems. They're very clear and delicate.
thanks diego. i can only write shorter poems. sometimes i can go long but it takes trememdous effort.
thanks moon. glad you liked this one.
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