Canyon Edge

Aramis, she thinks it was,
But she can’t remember;
All the wrapping paper strewn
There, across December —

What was that, the warm and close?
Scented candle drippings
Windy August brings to mind;
Sliding on her slippings

Once, there was, but there is not.
Edge of canyon yearning
Thoughts forever in her mind
Tumbling and turning —

Who is she? She doesn’t know.
No new light is breaking —
It’s not emptiness she fights,
But a fullness


Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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