like my tassel lying on the west coast
my uncolored canvas
defines my absence
for through long longer longest lonely nights
the quiet hours once distilled
start to bubble again
me into only the slightest sigh of
consciousness.
definition, faith, and feeling
hidden in one box
like a lover
facing another betrayal of
your other extended death.
© Sylvia Frances Chan
Wednesday 26th Sept 2018 -
@ 17.00 hrs. P.M. W.E.Time.
Sunny day, hurray! -19 C degrees.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem