Drawings
06/11/2021
in the meadow, we
Sat idle
Sat idle
Content.
I carved her soul
In stone, and
she kept it.
Her smile -
the cracking
of a lake in spring
-As cold.
The wind began to rage.
She kept it;
that which I
Had chiseled
And threw it.
Shattered.
The sky inked,
My stories lost
To the storm.
With her pen, she
drew my Soul.
with her hand, she
Crushed the paper.
drew my Soul.
with her hand, she
Crushed the paper.