sábado, 2 de janeiro de 2016

something broken

one day soon, here
between mountains and what is left
of sky, the pounding rain will
begin to still.  the light
refracting from a single drop
will seep   back in, past the ruins of
flood, and then comes the hour to return
to the pieces, to discover what part
of the fence has fallen, return some
mortar to the bridge,  notes from
a melody  trickling back in, so we can
roll up our  sleeves, get on with the task,
sweat to rebuild to the sound of a voice
that has lost its master.  

Nenhum comentário:

Postar um comentário