I’ve come back from the edge
A biting place unfit for human hearts
Grey clouds weep in undying sorrow
Cold and distant like the sound of snowfall
I search for you in longing measures
Paint hours of music from your eyes
Only to see the reflection of my loss
In a melody of abandoned lakes and lost dreams
It is as if myth becomes rebirth,
And each time all that I seek
Becomes protean vision of you
Ethereal and elusive like
Distant fog in October
And I see you in that vision, visceral
Prescience in a folding quilt of love
So as you lay your head lovingly
On my lap, the sounds of morning surround us
Becomes the envelope of my Gratitude
As I take your hand in mine.

 
© K. James Ribble