In your absence,
a black crow hovers
on fence posts,
glaring desert spreads ahead
and the feeling of isolation
pushes at the door.
The windmill, for want of oil
squeaks in the wind,
desolate as my mood.

You were the fish in the stream
the shining flash,
the deer on the hill, its gentle eyes,
and the eagle in the sky
gliding, strong in raw expression.

Not lovers, but friends …
I miss you, your words.
The tide of them is out and I
am exposed like a cold rock
without their wrap of warmth.

Are you off on a wave of love
and enchantment? I wish you well,
but I miss the cup of you,
your rich fluid of words
that are dew to my soul.

The hollowness of my days sits quiet.

7/2001

10/08/2001

Posted on 10/08/2001
Copyright © 2024 Audrey M Scott