Its Strange How a Loved Ones Footsteps
Its strange how a loved ones footsteps
are so recognisable
even in the sleeping hours
of the crust on blur
A midnight sigh to tempt
or in sadness recognise its merit
Deltas are finite increments
That course within this form
from thistle to thorn
vessel carries the forlorn
Adorn her with the universe
that exist simply just to frame
To know beauties true name
My slow clap to the sunset
That never sees her face
Copyright © Christopher Quigley | Year Posted 2019
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