Poets' Practice Pad

cobwebs and shadowed corners
grey dust, white sheets protecting the past
this place whispers to me of your desires
of our temptations, contentment, despair
how is it the loss of your physical presence
is so unbearably palpable
when you were at my side
I could no longer touch your hand?
the chimney smokes, no fire is lit
and your gentle voice recalls
our uneasy happiness together
and berates me not
for forgetting how to love you
when you walked still in my world


to have no regrets
[2007.13.4Éa]