Memory





The voice I hear
it speaks - it sings to me
of loneliness and
moon-washed dunes

A cracked and sun-dried land
she sleeps through day
weeps at night
pregnant
with shifting sand
erasing my passage
keeping her secrets
close to her heart

It is Time she holds
cradling hope
loosing fear
demeaning death
saving me

I demand
nothing
gain nothing
My eyes are wiser
opened to
a void
a slumber
a waking dream

The past in present's shade







Poetry by kyew
Read 238 times
Written on 2007-03-02 at 04:39

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