The Song Inside Myself (poem)

this song inside me
sings itself; I am
a field plowed flat, a
burning bridge. how
do I reach you from
here? I dream a song
of summer nights, turn
myself into wine.
put your lips to my
sky and inhale the
music. the moon waits,
dipped in dew.
when will I touch you

again?

Comments

  1. Elizabeth Anne May says

    Magical indeed– I have chills. Your poetry, dear friend, is quite good, I assure you! (I am thinking back to our poetry talk on our run…) Maybe your next book should be a volume of verse?

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