Rogue Stars - Poem by Eric Cockrell
we pass too often unaware,
rogue stars hurtling
through the vast blackness
of inner space...
a bump, a bruise,
a scratch, a scar...
and almost the smell
of a closeness.
we bring the cup to our lips,
too hot to taste...
it is only in the silence after,
that memory reaches out to touch!
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