your clasp
hangs from a finger
rises above
carves without danger
the crescent light
from the moon,
And
I wish
I could conceive you -
composed to a chill,
in a night
spread smooth across
a fragile moment
a knee
a silver ring
your hands
open the sky
with my head tilted
the images moving
across my face
starlit
curiously changing the tear
before it settles in,
has taken you
sitting on the edge
into reflection
~

11/11/2002

Posted on 11/11/2002
Copyright © 2025 Scott Cadence