I see no sunsets in my sleep
But this old cuneiform scrawl
Come first frost, I’ve promised loves to keep
But then I must needs fall.
For promised I my heart to keep
Blackberry stained hands for spring,
Soil in boots, roots not reaching deep
And hemlock sleep to bring.
To dare a peach would mean to reach
Toward old forks on my road
But my physical form is failing me
And has hidden things once showed.
Honey words flow from our cup,
If only I could care,
Towards the sky, my eyes look up,
Alone and wild, I stare.