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