having gone dust weary
abandoned and wander
she took her hand
in her hand and said
to herself she was sorry
dry rot and wormed
greywood splinted there
at the edge and waiting
fiftyfive steps from the
line cutting old growth
from pale sky feathered
wondering should he
come back to her again
share:
Sounds like the ultimate self forgiveness…without which we can never move on. Fine writing, Michael.
Thank you Chris. Appreciate it 🐦⬛
Your imagery creates such captivating snippets and scenes. Thank you, Michael. I saw a book today that made me think of your poems and stories. The title is, The Ghost – A Cultural History by Susan Owens. Looked interesting.
Thank you, as always. 💙 🐦⬛
It looks like an interesting book. Checking around to see if I can find a copy on the cheap… 😁
You’re very welcome! 🩷 Good luck! 🤞🏻
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