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Waking
by Stacey M. Campen

There are times
beneath the moon,
in pale lit shadows,
that I feel your loss.

A sad and tender tug
like that of a child
at my hem,
crying to be held.

I wonder, then,
if I would hear
your voice, waking
from the trench of sorrow
I had buried it in.
        
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Poem ID: 7847   Poem Posted: 9/29/1998
Viewed: 19643  Voted On: 292  E-mailed: 33  Commented On: 2
 
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Copyright , , Stacey M. Campen  all rights reserved by the author.
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