Monday, April 28, 2014

Poem a Day: 28

Dear Poetry,

Today I'm going to turn to you first.
Why? Because I'm still sleepy, and

it's gray out, a lowering atmosphere,
the wind cold, tunneling through our

thin coats. I need you next to me,
pushed against my chest, burrowed

into my white skin. Papers can wait:
letters, books, classes to finish. You,

dear poetry, hide somewhere behind
the clouds, only revealing yourself in

bursts, showering golden light on me in
dreams that vanish with waking.

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