Topheth, A Poem
#14 of Poetry c.2019
A poem about sacrifice and small comforts. Released very early into the year.
Topheth, A Poem
Casting actors for their play, learning tricks to make them stay; poor at making conversation, so far above your own station.
Car keys have set to rest, by the morning's very best; nothing new here to learn, but with room to yet yearn.
Cold lips will part to take, seasoned warmth for your sake, before fingers meet new skin, under disguise from all sin.
Cultivated like a rose, winding down with a pose; it is here they cannot steal, your daily chance to mend and heal.
Switching off invention for moonlight, another loss for your own right, to live as a mother for one day, and be loved for having gone astray.