Monday, February 22, 2016

Return

she called out
She realigned the stars
She longed for legacy
She lined up her heartache
And asked me
Can we please go home?

The roads of regret wash themselves in the rain
They are the same, washed, maybe cleaner
They belong to her,
Her kingdom has been made of new grindstone
Her heart has held soldiers
She is history informing memory,
Whispering, I know the ridge of sunset
I stay.

No comments:

Post a Comment