Awkward Squad ww wwwwPoetry
by Eddie Castellan
If you should
I feel the cold breath of absence,
the insistence of the silent stream.
Harsh firewood jars my fingers;
its splinters fight the impending pyre,
the stillness of the scheming clock.
A whispering car chokes the village.
Winter, my winter, endures
the stinging gavel of a solitary dog
and momentary stink of tom cat.
Your pen scratches my darkness
as the twice bell batters twelve.
poems and other texts on this site are the copyright of Richard Edward Hugh