I think I see his shadow where coats lean

The days of loss seem sharper than a knife
A razor blade, a chopping up  machine
They cut my heart and show me I’m no wife.

Yet I am happy with my writer’s life
A freedom to explore what is unseen
The days of loss seem sharper than a knife

I lose my pen, my phone, I do not lie.
I talk  out loud to silence my own screams
Loss cuts my heart and shows me I’m no wife.

I fail again and sometimes  let words fly
I bake the scones but I forget the cream
The days of loss seem sharper than a knife,

On other days I find the lost and cry,
I ask my fountain pen where it  has been
Loss cut my heart and showed me I’m no wife.

I think I see his shadow where coats lean
Or sunlight on  his spectacles will beam
The days of loss seem kinder than a knife
They warm my heart and tell me I’m his wife.

 

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About Katherine

I like poetry and history.I love literature and music.
This entry was posted in Thinkings and poems, villanelle. Bookmark the permalink.

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