Monday, November 3, 2014

What I want
What I hope
What do I these?
The tender touch
The sweet green leaf holding the dew aloft
The fresh chill that makes these coarse sheets
so warm
A brush with daybreak.
The eternal sunrise
Which will end far from now
But for now it tends to us impassively
The fiery hearth of a star.
Against the cold and the dark
Wandering in the black winds
Of this galaxy
While I take comfort,
One I wish for all,
Of coarse sheets heated by warm being.