Sometime the places that you left jar yester-worlds within
The grief of missing you, my love, tears holes beneath my skin
Those days gone by will not return; past is a soldered fold
But,
Absence of one keens Awareness
of those we have and hold
Sometimes weakness begs me to cling to what does not exist
The strength required to let go leaves me feeling
half-kissed
Where hours fall like flowers spinning moments into years
And
One absent keens awareness of how swift time disappears
Fingers can shake with wanting and a heart can ache for
years
The hardest part of loving is its softest part; our tears
Still, we love willingly and martyr-like, suffer its pain
For
Absence of one keens awareness of those that yet remain
© Janet Martin
