In Absentia

A chariot cloud takes me from my love,
The night skies glisten and shimmer above
His distant heart and shadowed brow,
Oh how I miss him, need him now.
Upon return I shall adorn his eye
With sunlit daydreams ascending high
To messengers in time and space
Which take my epistles from this place.

So while I'm gone and not quite here,
Know that my soul, to you, is near.




Poetry by la tristesse
Read 484 times
Written on 2006-11-09 at 00:50

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