laughter
so warm, so charming cheek-to-cheek
rings as cold, as hollow from afar
as the empty light-streaks
of long-dead stars
disasters, too
such as would rend one inside out, one’s own life befalling
at sufficient distance, at a certain remove
leave little more than a calling-
card reading, “bad news”
but the chapters,
love-vivid, of life which we wrote together
howsoever long now since has passed
have yet to fade, yet gray to weather…
and I wonder how long they’ll last
Stream of Consciousness Saturday
YeahWrite Weekend Writing Showcase
Word Florilegium 