Windward

Windward
In the depths of my soul, there is a wordless song.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

DEATH OF TRUST 1986

My trust was once a lake
of beauty, deep and true,
kept fresh by a river of love
borne for you.

Promised rains never came --
still, you drank more and more,
ever greedy.  Unnoticed
went the dwindling shore.

Now I have erected
a wall of cold steel
'round the pond that remains
and the little I feel

Lest you, in your soul-thirst,
should drink my trust dry
and leave me heart-shriveled,
unable to cry.

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