My Soul To Water
In nights, in stillness those small hours
The clock’s quick hands caress me more
Than I can remember yours
Once held me close so long before
I am no lamb but still think: slaughter
Is what this is, and in despair
I turn to stone, my soul to water
You were so much, but never fair
I count the myriad smithereens
You left floating in the moonlight
I feel in transit, Bedouin
Nowhere at home, escape daylight
Your warmth was a home to me
It’s cold now, lacks humanity
***
Iambic Tetrameter English Sonnet
April 4, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
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