Jesse Kloos

Do these tell an untold story;
These pages which before me lie?
And can this Pen unveil it for me;
While in my hand, to bring it nigh?
...

There was a time I longed for Spring-
To see the blue above
And hear the yellow warbler sing
Of everlasting love.
...

The final petal said you love me not,
And mournfully I knew this must be true,
And so I hid it in a book by Yeats,
Then placed it on a shelf high out of view;
...

A wistful little Thrush was perched
Aloft upon a stem—
Observing all the other birds,
Comparing her to them.
...

'Twas easier in days gone by
To evince with glint of eye,
Glowing cheeks, and heads held high,
That unlade were our shoulders.
...

O love, my love, I bid thee come and rest
Beside me here, upon this pier, and stare
At ripples kissing moonlight as they crest;
Like drowning hopes in desperate search of air.
...

Some crash ashore with eventide's rise,
And delight and refresh with their spray.
They sway and break behind the closed eyes,
But melt 'way at the break of the day.
...

What is this Thing within the mirror?
I scarcely recognize.
It truly is a thing of terror!
Yet I still empathize.
...