here i come again on this plane
watching the towering grains
drowned to the crying heaven
dancing with the icy wind.
under the shed of an oak tree,
my hope is as old as thee,
furnishing all the memories
before the raven flees.
i still wait for the sun
to kiss my hair,
i'll be lying if i say it has no effects
'cause it feels like a fertile bliss.
i've got a trembling knees,
yet surrendering is not in my veins.
it doesn't make any less,
so i'm going to lay here 'till the eclipse.
i wouldn't mind if i die waiting for you here,
though it would take a thousand years.
i just wanted you to appear,
at least i could make peace with my soul by seeing you for real.
YOU ARE READING
ain't first, ain't last
Poetryto be one's saturn. [old poetry collection for someone we could never have]
