On the shore, he stood, while I drifted on the sea to icecaps.
My heart left him. He says he left me hoping, he believes.
In a home, perhaps that's warm, you comfort
that self-declared real man. You wear the rings I did
once, gold on your finger, leash in your nose.
In dreams you come, a shadow on the side
aisle of a candel lit chapel.
In dreams he follows me with clumsy negotiations.
Once his wife but content to walk free,
I am forever enthroned.
He is singing me in the public square. You will feel used.
He is writing a life lyric: You are his wife but I am his muse.
I would weep for you but you never wept for me.
You have made your bed, now sleep uneased.
My favorite song is "Free!"
(c) 2009 Nordette N. Adams
1 comments:
Umm..interesting..and very cleansing for you. I am curious to know exactly when this poem birthed itself? What was on your mind at that moment?
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