Come and enjoy this wistful and romantic poem – CURSED MOVING ON
lord knows
the fields are empty now –
by summer burned away
and I wonder
do you miss
the tender nights
do you think about
forever –
a sunrise such as this
when clouds compete –
a winter quilt
july
do you dream
without permission
awake within a sigh –
stumble out of ribbons
to the porch
do you speak of me
into the still
where morning waits
the night
do you watch
the road –
and curse the moving on
. . .
The Reluctant Poet 