National Poetry Month

Heart, shiver, tender, cold, gaze, river In that broad, old night, In the dark—the grip was tight, A coo, a warm breath—soothed my heart, Shivered, “son, you’re the knight,” Mom, an aperture to my view. The misty dawn, in the cold, My tender eyes gazed—afraid, The river of hope in the mist, faded, Luckily, the debt's dark cloud dispersed, The backer, an aperture to my view. The long sunny day, perpetual, Dedicated to the battle, Hard work, harsh but agile, Vibrant, wishing the dusk is fruitful, A spur of hope, the aperture to my view.