This is the first
morning without you
and my eyes have grown breakable;
my shoulders carry on
stiff with tenacious worries
hauled
like rucksacks
on this long ascent
this endless climbing
to catch
up with the sun.
This is the first
morning without you
and my eyes have grown breakable;
my shoulders carry on
stiff with tenacious worries
hauled
like rucksacks
on this long ascent
this endless climbing
to catch
up with the sun.
A selfish poet
Unclogging my mind...
Ben Jamieson, writer
Alys Jackson Writer
short stories | musings
Conjured by Sarah Doughty
Forays in Speculative Fiction
a life in motion
A journey through the seasons with two adopted whippets, a poet and a camera
by Lize Bard
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