Time, you, love, are made of
Shadows plaay hopscotch
on your face
like you were meeting this again
Asking, your weeping eyes
searchlights in the gloom, for me
but struggles in illuminating you
We will find it yet, our course
Shoulder, you, love, are made of
stanchioned like an ancient oak
and bearing weights of layered meanings
I ache, more for your not seeing
Ellen, you, love, are made of

Copyright 1997

Poetry Magazine