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 May 2014 Michael
Sarah Spang
If I was a mountain

That soared towards the sky,

With craggy snow caps

And stormy grey eyes-



Then you'd be the clouds

That swaddled my peak,

That silenced my thunder

When I tried to speak.



If I was the earth

The desert, in fact:

With arid dry soil

And mud, baked and cracked-



You'd be the rain

The downpour that soothed;

The balm to my bruises,

Relief to my wounds.



If I was the Moon

In the indigo night,

With stars as my blanket

And silver; my light-



Well you'd be the Sun

Just always behind

That lent me your glow

And caused me to shine.
 May 2014 Michael
Sarah Spang
These words just deposit
Like sand on the beach;
Remain on this tongue
As unspoken speech.

They stretch towards someone
Whose ears have gone deaf;
Unable to know
Their tones on my breath.

Their eyes will not see
All that has passed
Since the day that they ceased
And breathed out their last.

Their presence won't touch us
Like waves on the shore
Reaching for something
Not here anymore.

— The End —