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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2210874
Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2210874
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I pointed my nose into the wind,
my eyes along the skyline

Waiting for a signal,
a welcoming home

I placed my ear unto the ground,
listening for redemption

Tasting all the empty years,
bereft of touch—alone

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2018)
© Copyright 2020 Kurt Philip Behm (kurtbehm at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2210874