by Michael Lee Johnson
Below the clouds
forming in my eyes,
your soft eyes,
delicate as silk words,
used to support
I held for you.
Cold, now gray, the sea tide
inside turns to poignant foam
upside down and separates
and only ghosts now live between us.
Yet, dream-like, fortune-teller,
bearing no relation to reality,
my heart is beyond the sea now.
A relaxing breeze sweeps
across the flat surface of me.
I write this poem to you
neglectfully sacrificing our love.
I leave big impressions
with a terrible hush inside.
Gray bones now bleach with memories,
I am a solitary figure standing
here, alone, along the shoreline.
Copyright © 2007 by Michael Lee Johnson