 |
| Sunrise with dog |
Deep in the night tide I know
the cellophane crushed in my lungs is pneumonia,
but when the silver winter sun
clears the woods, instead I know
it's just a common cold,
and soon enough I'll write for you
another poem to read by firelight,
until that dropping embered orb
sinks once more behind the barn,
and with a burning in my chest I know
I'll never see you again.
I'll never see you again.
