poetry & things

Wind of pining

Wind and dark the night I pine

stark the grasp of longing

branched and vined

blue mourning

deep in soul

an echo


When through my fingers

your hand slips

taste of your

fleeting kiss



Paper winged

when torn, I stutter, stammer

spiraling and falling

only in dreams softly sweet

once more a butterfly

brilliantly winging

Post navigation
Scroll to top