seldom do i recall the vastness of the open—
your cold invitingly holds me to the unspoken;
beckons at me through that sylvan oaken
world beyond worlds, rising within me, bespoken
of that grandeur through the sky—floating
just beyond the edges of our emotion.
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 6:06 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem