the page
the page
Beloved.
Every day, you.
Empty, insistent you
made of light and white
demanding the next true thing.
Heartbeat of my nights and days
Strict. Requiring steady rhythm,
accountability. This thing, this
I can do. Choose my chair
and wait, some nights
a longer time. Then
there words are.
Beloved.
the Beloved often shows up from nowhere. this brought tears to my eyes...
Love the form and the sentiment! Beloved, indeed!