on this September morn,
undressed in eyes
once long, too young to winter
this curled surly age.

Surely once
upon this September morn,
before the chronic drains,
now long, domestic,
a smudge remains.

Would that I deny these slender pulled waters,
Would that I tender these misting points,
that tamp low grounds and river joints,
though one betrays, one end anoints.

take this unto your soon departing –
remembrance is the better part of love –
starting once upon a starling cloud,
and crowding gathered flocks
fixed to the eyes of lovers once,
are reckoned on the heaves and rocks.

Inspired by: Lost Where I Belong by David Moore

Image: Tobias Oetiker on Unsplash

7 Thoughts

    1. Thank you, Lance. I offered up a link to the poem that inspired the it. David Moore’s poem “Lost Where I Belong” got me reminiscing on an old flame, and wondering if at least a “smudge remains”.


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