Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  May 2017 mateo
Emily Dickinson
638

To my small Hearth His fire came—
And all my House aglow
Did fan and rock, with sudden light—
’Twas Sunrise—’twas the Sky—

Impanelled from no Summer brief—
With limit of Decay—
’Twas Noon—without the News of Night—
Nay, Nature, it was Day—
  May 2017 mateo
JAC
"For a moment,"
Said their lips,
Warm, but fleeting

"It's okay,"
Said the rain,
Falling again

"I missed you,"
Said your bed,
Empty and tired

"Not today,"
Said the night,
Long and dull

"Maybe next time,"
Said the morning,
Sleepy and still

"Just wait,"
Said the week,
Dragging on

"Just breathe,"
Said the sidewalk,
Every day

"You're fine,"
Said the wind,
Colder than them

"I need you,"
Said your heart,
Resigned and dry

"..."
Said your lips,
Silent.
Next page