Poem -

The Secret Hours

you try to help, I know you do
I feel your hand, borrowed from
the night breeze
rocking my invisible cradle

I feel your essence, at one with
dusk, soothing as the
sleepless come... and I...
seeking kindness
 
I hear your voice, blended
with dawn's, a harmony
of secret hours, coaxing my
hopeless... to hope...

I feel, as you throw summer
around me
scented and cherry white
coating my hair, in the cruelty
of mid noon

​​​​​​yet still...I am ungrateful

M P 3/4/21
 

 

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