A Repose Of Sort
Through the edging of the night
he was there
steadfast and strong
teetering at the tip of her thought
a yearning to be
allowed
to become undone
through the hallowed
the wanting
the waning
until the rise of a new lit sun
for night was her day
and he held her young
through it all
ancient echoes still sung
Copyright © Ts Poetry | Year Posted 2023
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