It's Still Life

A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week

The I In It

Sometimes I Forget She’s Gone

For a time she was the best in me
For a time I half believed in rights and wrongs
For a time I believed in poetic sympathy
that poetry was my friend

For a while we were a summer meadow
For a while I burnt my wings
For a while the moon was pure of spirit
rather than a face

When winter broke, she laughed at my spring
When she danced naked, I drew the blinds
When she was slim, strong and alabaster
she was the best in me

From time to time I forget she’s gone
From time to time I forget to mourn
From then until now, one month

Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.