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written by: TM DiSarro


I talk to him often
Once a week at least
Sunday mornings
In a field of misfortune
Where people gather
To say farewell
To family
To friends
To husbands
In a place of futures...
A place of dreams...
Dreams of forever never again
Dreams as millstones
Tied around my neck
Dragging me down
Into the depths of your image
Into fathoms of memories
Laying above you
On my back
Looking up to the sky
All questions floating up
With words of why
Words of doubt
Balloon words floating up
Ever upwards
Against the deep blue countenance
Of heaven above us
Do they reach the end
Or are they carried away
With clouds of wind
Popped with a cosmic pin
Their fragments as syllables
Falling to earth
Then on my knees
Looking towards you
With all words of missing
Of longing
Of forever after never was
Facing down
Ever downward
Descending words
Whispers of love
Seeping through grass
Into soil
Can you hear me
Through the blankets of dirt
Between us
With the fragrance
Of flowers watered by tears
Against a stone page
That bears the date of your birth
And day of your dying
In service to country


©2017 TM DiSarro/MindScapesPublishing



From the collection: THOMAS CADENCE

TM DiSarro

TM DiSarro

I do not consider myself a writer but I love to write. Neither a poet but I love poetry. I steal bits and pieces of time to scratch out ideas on note books, laptops and cell phones. I live and work in Florida fabricating custom canvas and other fabric products and sometimes costumes.
TM DiSarro

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