365 Days of Poetry: Day Eighty

for a moment
the leaves kick up
with the first winds of Spring
and the chains of swings
creak against their moorings-
I am struck that it is Fall
and none of this strange, hard Winter past
has really happened
and you are not once again
asking for too much.
and I am not
once again
in that scarred place
you made when we
were two that made one.

he is worth this.
you are not.


About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

this side, that side

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: