To Sing the Ever Present Farewell
The way your breast rises,
small pillows,
two doves in autumn,
so, too, the song escapes.
I admit my part,
warbled promise, uncombed
and shivering,
free to worry
under its pull.
Still it comes,
inexorable tide
lowing a sorrow
through filtered light
till dawn.
O at the Edges 
Oh, how beautiful is this, Bob! So intimately true and perfect title – a real treasure for me this morning!
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Thanks, Lynne! Those farewells continue…
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Truly beautiful, sensual, delicate and intense. Love the incredible tenderness of this eroticism.
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Thank you, Marta. I’m so pleased it resonates for you.
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I cannot but echo MOMENTS – an excellent analysis of a dreamy poem
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Ah, thank you, Derrick.
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good
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Thanks very much, Diana.
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I want u tell me how can i post my video
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I have no experience with posting videos, Diana. I’ve only provided links.
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I have told myself a vigil was not a vigil, knowing it was and worrying at the signs. This brought that back to me.
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Sometimes our labels don’t reflect what we know to be true. I know this occurs with me.
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“Ever present farewell” takes my breath – while additional farewells inevitably pile on, there are a few from long ago very much “forever present”. Beautiful poem overall, too.
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Those are difficult to shed, even if we want to. Any more, I hold them closer.
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Pingback: a grumpy gift: To Sing the Ever Present Farewell — O at the Edges | hands in the garden
Just beautiful :O)
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Thank you!
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A small and beautiful lament, Bob.
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Thank you, Cate!
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stunningly done ❤
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Thank you, Sarah. Much appreciated.
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