A bent leg
one in the puddle
that grey sky
but not my heart
a red rose
that fragrance – hope
and these words
falling sprites
upon your tender soul —
what voice do you hear
heaven or mortal man before
that prostates himself unto you
spirit or flesh or both
what take you — love and life?
or a memory upon your trails
that message I await upon lips
Alone again, without you.
:: 03-23-2014 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 