Sleep timber is one way to go – A poem in 5 parts

Weather grabs instinct away from the sender
it takes a breath amount to realize distance
is worrisome like a broken rainbow under siege
listening is difficult at this stage because of the rot

Cobblestones line up without rhyme or reason
just as morning runs into fog rife with night scars
lining moss-covered bridges underneath where
nothing is seen only intuition knocking on the door

Not loud but heard by the soul in a constant rhythm
of rain, it is not friendly but much maligned steps of
forgotten lightness and sun, warming to the touch
always in the early days of clarity and smiles, tears

deep, few, long, loving in the soft embrace of more

Constant more is always the answer as day turns
to night and as night turns to day; more is the answer
we count on…

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About stevewhitmore

Former award-winning newspaperman and broadcast journalist, both radio and TV, spanning three decades. Army-trained paralegal, court bailiff and prosecutor's lead investigator for the 8th Infantry Division's Judge Advocate General's Corp., Mainz, Germany. 1973-1975.
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