in days of slithering snake

in days of slithering snake
find me here in I breathing
with the sun charmer

the smell of soft ice melting
is this time of year
is solace to the count of seasons

bones and tissue sing I am
the old dog moves the ash
in an old wood urn

there were others born
into my lost custody
I mislaid them

regret and love reigns
final days are final days
a fire behind a sun dial




Poetry by Bob
Read 726 times
Written on 2016-02-27 at 15:54

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I feel the triumph of makeing it through another year, as if every moment is precious now as it always has been when we were oblivious to time. I feel a return to real love and some regrets being left behind. I enjoyed this poem.
Ashe
2016-02-27