A Winged Dream

You were so much closer to me, then. Twenty-eight, still facing┬átime. I do not think I will see you again.The mission door, creaking, swinging wide, A handful of dirt, your gentle face dissolving under lime. You were so much closer to me, then.In my son, my nightly search for your face, midnights by his bedside, … Continue reading A Winged Dream