Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 138 Come join us!
"Every heart has its secret sorrows which the world
knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad" ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I am not built of brick and mortar
nor were you
wide open spaces are always at risk to suffer damage in winter’s
frost
so the world’s sorrows always seeped in like a flood
beyond ego’s edifice
beyond flesh and bone
tears became a lingering fog
of the words one can never forget
and your eyes spoke each one like mockingbirds
moving through every cloud
it was a place one could get lost in
so I learned to close my eyes
and I became your distant forest
for you were too high up in the clouds
to ever realize you were so lost
nor see that I was longing to be found.
