When Thoughts Come Home
Mine eyes drift back, incensed in forgotten crevices
intoxicated by wondrous wafts of camphor
I blink three times and bow
The wetness dripping off my brow
sizzles reminding me of the trinity
as aches pause momentarily on bended knee
Flickers of hope dance and in wicked light
I focus on her blue attempting
to be one again with you
Beads of rays coloured tap gently
upon pain stained cheeks
and one by one I release her orbs
into a teardrop sky
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2016
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