Treasure Island

Diana Rosser


Gone


It is the hollow
of your shoulder blade
where I rest my head

safe
against your soft skin

curved
along the strength
of your backbone
that

I

m i s s

when you are

g o n e

my place of safety

my harbour
against
the storm of
the world

but
you are

g o n e

and I must
wait
for your
safe return.

Submitted: Friday, February 21, 2014

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