Screaming sky releases steaming tears
as old memories return to caress,
I am lost under the heavy weight of absence
nostalgic for a beautiful scent,
a power that moves me greatly
I continue to crave her presence,
a kindness that I can no longer touch
but keeps calling me through dreams,
offering protection and so much hope
somewhere else now, I guess,
but returns though to touch me deeply
to hold me and comfort my tired old soul
Such beautiful words... Thinking of you and beautiful Jane too. Steph B.
ReplyDeletecheers though someone on poetry forum earlier said ' Please forgive me for saying this, but as it is right now, this draft reads like a poorly written Hallmark card.
ReplyDeleteold soul is cliché. Can a power move you greatly, or does it move you to feel or do something the reader can see?
Show. Show. Show. Stop the telling.' hey di ho.