Thursday, July 29

no regrets after all


i remember ...
walking to your gray-stone house
on the crust of snow in March, when the air
was still and soft, reminiscent of pearl,
it was a night of smoked glass that felt like a dream
it might have been

the whispers of love...
the sweetest of songs, sung into the ether
while your warm spirit hung on bare trees,
a rose bud expecting summer, awakening
to find itself chilled at dawn in midwinter

the rhythm ...
of my heart sundered our paths
i set you free, i followed my joy
down a  yellow brick road, looking back sometimes
but no regrets after all for the hills
and valleys of my solitary adventure

© 2018, poem, Jamie Dedes (The Poet by Day and The BeZine), All rights reserved; Photo courtesy of MorgueFile

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