This Morning
by Stephen Damon
My prayers had no words
so I waited for you
to break the silence.
But you never did.
The silence deepened
overflowing the room
with a distance & time
too great to comprehend.
Again, I called out to you
but my words had not
the rhyme nor rhythm
to carry them aloft.
Watching them fall
like the last leaves
of Autumn’s despair
I followed the sensation
of a tear making its way
down the lines of my face
& I knew you were near.
If you liked this poem, read more in our current issue. Available through us or your local independent bookseller.
Stephen Damon owns Browser Books in San Francisco. This is his first poem in print. His first collection, Rhyming the Hours, will be published this spring by Codhill Press, New Paltz, NY. E-mail: Cleolucky@aol.com |