Last, Long Winter

I think of her that last, long winter:
How it was supposed to be —
Walking down that lonesome valley
Past the fence, and tree lines —

But you — you never knew her, did you?
Eyes that laughed at simple things,
The ludicrous, the painful (sometimes)
Even getting old —

How many roads within a lifetime:
Steps, missteps, and retraced steps —
The people we love best, but find
We barely knew at all

The sleep that comes the last, long winter,
Blankets clutched unsteadily,
Until the morning, down the road
Across the hill

That Afternoon…

He put a marker on my soul
Before he ran away,
Like wind that moves the grass
That we can’t see

And hardly a week goes by that I
Don’t think about his going,
But I was young, it’s all
A blur to me

So, how is it that voice still echoes,
I still can smell that aftershave —
I hum the songs he used to love,
And still —

The day comes when it’s time, I guess,
And we can’t know each others’ souls,
I wish I could, but know

I never will


Oh light, that you should come again
To shine upon this tired head;
Oh life, that drains away but once
And is the same for hope, and dread,

I wish upon a summertime
Of all-too far and long ago
That I could be back then instead,
And not know what I’ve come to know,

For love is like the waves that come:
For that one day, the ocean roars —
But lo, it all recedes, and we
Are left alone on empty


Lonely Flowers – 3

It’s just so hard to understand
When grass is tall and views are scarce:
The great unknown is so unplanned
And yet she has the same old cares —

Or forms of them, a little bit:
How far away the recent past
Seems now, when she might think of it,
But she has time to think

At last