This Dark Poem
This poem will be found fixed to my heart.
My brain still humming like a mushroom in spring.
I will have this one life there can be no changing that.
Like the Red Indian Paintbrush flowers outside
my window.
Having used up this motion of these open arms.
These eyes switching on and off.
Some days your door opens easily on others
you cannot be found.
Perhaps my heart has dropped the ball.
My married hand wants yours to sign
on the dotted line, you have been loved.
Susan Bazett