I hear you calling in the night
And you were there, as well, a touch away
always about to pull the sound of ticking darkness back
The view is real enough
I cannot turn away
I stand like a stone - a hollow block of anguish -
facing down the vast landscape of a lament:
the valley overgrown with the words we took
that led nowhere
the tall trees of tears,
the herds of sorrow grazing
chewing fresh distractions
(everywhere the scrimmage of appetite);
and beyond them the fields of blossoming regret
shot through with Rue
© Sophia Roberts August 2011
All rights reserved
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