Number Thirteen
Sit with me for a bit
Under the Dead Winter Tree
Of yesterday and tomorrow
We'll watch the last hues fall
In the shadow of the snow
Your fingers in mine
With a giggling chill of a blast
Blanketing the idea of a foolish love
Don't go yet
Your heart calls you away
I know,
I weep,
Sit with me for a bit longer
My bones weary from the long drag
Of the day in mourning
Can't let them go from the tomb
In the roots of my chest
Please - don't go
I'm not ready,
To add you to the dead,
All I'm asking
A simple need
In a snowy dream is
Sit with me.
YOU ARE READING
Empty Shadows
PoetryA book of pointless poems for broken hearts and lonely souls, but it is not going to change anything. Words for all the people I can't speak to with those things hidden in my shadow.
