Tendrils of Mercy

The season depresses, the cold, the clouds,
The lack of color on the land. More and more,
This one room becomes an oasis, and you in it,
Something like water, so vital and basic. How
Would I survive if you didn't sustain me? I'm
Certain I don't want to know. I'll just wait out
This soul-crushing time of the year, sheltered
Here, kept from sinking by tendrils of mercy,
Your outstretched arms.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 62 times
Written on 2021-11-20 at 01:19

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