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from “The Words We Have Spoken”

I think of you on the other side, lonely
and as unhappy as I am; but possibly
you are content in a room with white walls,
flowering plants, a room where I might even
be welcome could I discover the right roads.
From my side of the valley, I see darkness
climbing the distant hills. It is getting late.
We have to learn to save ourselves, change ourselves,
or else we’ll come to a time when love won’t help–
night of no welcome, night of the long indifference.

Posted in Dobyns, Stephen, Poetry.

By chris
8/15/2005

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