Sit With Me Here
Sit with me here
for one last poem,
our eyes connected
deep, as the bay.
Don't walk away.
Sit with me and listen
though I've nothing new to say.
The crazy bird that sang it's countless tunes
outside our bedroom window at dawn
has likely found new sky
another place to hide
new arbors to call home.
And yet the moon will rise
to linger over your shoulder,
to reveal the auburn hue
of the mis-placed hairs framing your face.
Even through my doubts
you have remained, a constant
either at my side
or in my heart.
Copyright © Chuck Novotny | Year Posted 2012
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