“Constant Things”

There is a sadness in me

that no sigh

is deep enough to expel;

a stream that is sometimes

just a dusty ancient track,

an almost imperceptible scar,

then suddenly full and over-flowing,

gushing and eroding,

seasonal and inevitable,

but never gone.

An uncontained and desparate plea,

or just a familiar distant expectation,

all the while flanked

by reliable and comforting forest,

soft and lacey fingers of willow

that caress its crumbling banks,

and swathes of bountiful fields

that run in constant companionship beside,

…the evergreen harvest

of true and lasting love.


1 Comment

Filed under poetry

One response to ““Constant Things”

  1. those last two lines just SING! perfect!

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