The Dust

Often I find myself wanting to move
from the dust like a lost, small dog,
fur a summertime shackle.

Those dark winter days
we were our own light.
Lapped the water in from a trough.
We didn’t have to dip (not deeply)
and we’d share our sips freely.

Then Valentine’s Day
came and went.
Meanwhile we sat alone
at our computers,
waiting to press send.

 

(originally published in The Legendary)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s