You have my hand
even without the dew,
I'd hold it to the very end of time.
Look to the sand
...
He likes to be behind me,
Holding loosely to my upper breast,
I always sleep with right side down,
His other hand requires extra warmth
...
The tethers that develop
the chain links that surround
were started as ephemeral
with tendrils from the ground.
...
Awake I rush to burn the toast
quick, jam and honey, soft-boiled eggs,
meanwhile the oven cooks the roast
he loves the taste of mutton legs.
...
You should have been there Mom,
a million of all shapes and hues
Begonias, all, best man was Skipper Tom
he wore his crazy Charlie Chaplin shoes.
...
All ugliness originates
within the self,
expressing what you feel
is what you truly are.
...
Mother's cranky still,
she'll be a year away
from ninety-nine, next March.
Face full of basal cells
...
An impossible dream,
it was never to be,
even peaches and cream
would be fooling just me.
...
To all poets and ladies and gents,
those who live in huge houses or tents,
could you tell me puhleeeeeeeze
how to stop the big tease
...
I came upon these steamy lines
while plucking scabs from aging pines.
That's when my mind is at its best
as I have previously confessed,
...
Failures lie in
unkempt compromises..
Acceptance and love
...
Missing You
You have my hand
even without the dew,
I'd hold it to the very end of time.
Look to the sand
it trickles down for you
no hourglass can ring for us its chime.
Sarah Everson is a very welcome addition to the list of poemhunter contributors...