oil painting by: Albert Francis King 1854–1945
keeps dark at bay
pressing in
as night wind stirs
like mocking breath
of life now lost
to light-less realm
beyond the chill
encircling me
I ache
to feel
your tender touch
the warmth
but naught
my heart
cold
and empty
to remain
no emotion
save grief
apples spilled
on broken stair
where rail eluded
grasping hand
no voice came
to futile cry
those lips
will not know again
sweet fruit
nor love
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse
