Getting Lost

 

There’s a page 

From my own book

And I’m lost in it

Even in all the years

I left her 

By the side

Of the road

She sat and waited 

Watching 

Every vehicle 

That passed 

With unrelenting hope

In the pages

Were maps

And photographs 

Remembrances of our memories together 

She whispers

And tugs at me

Sometimes late at night

So I listen

My dictation is approved 

Stamped 

And tossed through 

Circuitry 

Wires

Focused reliably 

And listening to hear the same

Like 

Be liked

Hold 

Never be Holden to

But to hold

Close and near

That little spark

Buried within you 

I haven’t even finished putting “flights” out here…

And the tether let me through 

To another bank of verses… 

“Ghosts”