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The Archers Hands

by Jennifer L Banks

The wind blows fierce on this dark foggy night
Not even a candle is glowing tonight
The wind howls it's mournful yowl hard
scattering leaves and branches
across the late autumn yellowy leafed yard

I lay here scrunching my pillow against my head
I keep thinking of you and the last word you said
It wasn't the "hi" I heard long ago
More like a quiet "bye", even so...

When you hung up the phone,
I heard myself in a low alto scream.
No, No NO! Not this kind of dream!
My heart refreshed and rekindled,
just walked out of sight
Not another word said,
I felt wounded that night.

The wind, like some ancient demon
angrily clawing to get in, coveting it's newest prize
Scraping across the window pane, laughing at her watery eyes
I sit here like a bowman, heavy hearted and tired
but love again for me.... has sadly backfired.
I see the silvery stag of dreams, it snickers
Go over the hill into the night, never to return
and the archers hands disappear in flickers.


Posted on 12/01/2011
Copyright © 2020 Jennifer L Banks

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 12/01/11 at 04:45 PM

Pretty damn happy with what's here, but I'm down with anything else you want to do with this.

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