So silently I stand here, waiting for him to come
I wait here for my one and only, my one true love

Time flies by and I start to lose hope, I fear that he may not come
I wait some more for him to arrive, but he is not in sight

I see him with someone, who is pretty and subtle
I realize he no longer loves me, he loves someone with fewer flaws

For these flaws I have are dangerous, and no one can love that type of girl
A girl like me who is clumsy and makes mistakes

Will never be loved any time in my life
Here, is where I will wait
I sometimes lose hope and think that I will never find love. So here I am waiting for him to come to find me and not judge me for my clumsiness.
  5d L B
How do I go
When my absence melts you
How do I turn away
When I am immersed in you

What else can I see
If you are all my vision
What can draw my mind
If you are each thought

Are you truly alone
While you are surrounded by fears
Are you left without voice
While you scream in silence

Is there a limit to my rekindlings
As I extinguish with each last look
Is it possible to breathe
As lungs fill with endless calls to you

At what point could there be too much us
Though there is never enough
At what point is pain exhausted
Though the void of apart is limitless

Where is the end of empty
Can it be found when we are cleft
Where do we cease to touch
Can we be disjoined at any point

Why do we bleed with stilled hearts
Must away be bottomless
Will actuality ever come right
Do we survive, or die trying
Catechism - A set of questions put as a test

Though most often thought of as religious in nature, it need not be
L B Dec 2
Was I ten?
I think?
Was it December?
that I became distracted
by the snow's

The ******'s hills lure me
the curving walk
Toward home--
I surely know
my way--
path invisible
snow beyond my knees

but for the patterns of the trees
that etch the skyline

My love....
...were it not for those
I would be lost

My feet lift depths
The snow
could be this deep?
could take this much
should trudge so far
my depth
my breath
a fog-- of
I own

I am wading in the white
in spite--
of freezing
of parental threat...
wind brings tears
to reddened cheeks
Toes, long since numb
...and I am late-- as always

Wipe my nose on sleeve
Pull mittens with my teeth
tissues damp in pocket deep

I have gone so far
too far
into the ******'s windings
with my mind

and night is falling
Night is watching
from the hemlocks
now behind
my purpose--
the gray of sky
the ghostly silence
of the moon rise

I don't know where night came from
How it got here
why I came
only that I want to linger--
than that twinge of fear


soft tick
of snow
against itself

Wind in white pines
saddest of living things
begs a loan of time and winter winds
I had been reading Frost's "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" again, and I think I know just where he was.

Yup, in trouble.  Street lights definitely on.

******:  Irish, for a small narrow wooded valley with a brook, in other words--
the back woods behind my house.
  Nov 28 L B
Tom Spencer
turning a corner
my headlights catch
a great horned owl
sailing through the darkness
wings outstretched
gliding on a cold north wind
a phantom conjured
by unyielding hunger
set aloft and still verging
from shadow to shadow
hours later
in the warmth of my room

Tom Spencer © 2018
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