Come and gone

And it’s done,


I heard your call

To rise and fall.

What was I ya’ll?

That surmise in your eyes

A hard surprise

At  sight.

You would not see

The light

Within my day

Within my night.

Old voyager at your door

Knocking at hope

With a treasure bag

And lag

Of years.

Wide Oaks

Draped in moss,

Magnolias of steel,


Of Sherman’s toss.

Wandering your poetry of parks,

Wondering is this home again?

Can you know the vast gulf

Crossed to reach you?

It makes me blue

This afternoon

Thinking about it

And on into the night,

Where I had hoped

To alight

On a higher

Safer branch.


Exquisite flower

Perched on top

A garbage pile

Of violence, poverty and death.

Sour now, your scent.

Keening what to do

Tearing out the dream of you.

No mourning the rent.

Walking to the River,

Shaking off the shiver

Of my escape

Beneath the soft

Of Spanish moss.

In the humid evening breeze

And a long way home,

I roam

Your dreamy cobbled street

And gardens sweet.

With a wise loss

And toss

Plans that frees

The slave of you.

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