10 August 2014

Last Word


This little place
to turn and pace
filled up with sand
sometimes with grace

O wheels, turn
O letters, burn
I fire the love
for which I yearn

A half-made song

a moving on

spread the ashes

forget the wrong

~~~~~

Thank you for reading, if you've wandered by.
Today's the day for this blog to fly.
More poems may appear - 
but over here:


Go well, 
be well.