5d • Poetry
Slow Seasons (in the Sun)
Your fingers in mine
I linger on your face, slowly
I navigate your body;
The memory of your skin
More than just a memory
The unmeasured flood of pain
How losing you has robbed me.
But then everything you’ve
Made of me remains, and
Why not? Can’t love spring
Up from frozen ground, taking
Root from sleeping seeds
Rising up again with time,
A little rain, and the
Patient healing of slow
Seasons in the sun.
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Slow Seasons (in the Sun)
