By Myself
I saw myself
with just myself reflecting
on unfinished notes of winter past--
the coldest front icing evenings
where a fireplace became a chilled shelter
of unwanted dazed musings
as I traveled within time's slow compass.
Your wool jacket dangles tonight
on a hook accumulating lint and stale mint,
while spring floods our garden with foliage--
and I'm alone by myself.
Copyright © Norma Arana | Year Posted 2015
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