A Debt Poem by James McLain
A Debt
This debt of mine
this life you live to give
away to they whom came before.
I give to thee.
Darkness and is it not a song
all wait to hear it naught in sight
when sleep comes temp me, near?
When the dawn is new and that upon
on which I lay,
beneeth the clouds, held off drift near.
Dear and wading out so far from shore,
my breath you see it as a plume,
of spray when I swim there.
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4/25/2024 6:21:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
