adventures in dysthymia

Friday, September 16, 2005

SHADOW

The shadow you cast
has outlasted
the memory of our sun.
It shone on your face.

We made the dawn
our lover, then;
we slept in the cool arms
of a summer past.

Night and all
its distant stars
tell me I once dreamed;
and dreams must slip away.

Would I were
a pine, binding
rock-rooted earth to sky.
I yearn toward heaven.

Stephen Brooke ©2005

1 comment:

Bob said...

Truly outstanding, Steve.