I spend my words on sorrow
immeasurably so – unbalanced
in wasting all I have on
paintings of an unknown end.
And I wonder – wander through
a moment of pastels in floral,
warmed by her glow – The Sun—
embedded into mornings unseen by me
yet felt in dreams I’ve yet to dream.
Is this me? A place where
I am bent – splintered at the sides
& open wholly for all to watch me reaching –
the dusk pulling at my pockets for
the rest of my voice, unwritten.
© Audrey Rosengreen, 2018