Dreaming Spires and
I miss the thrill of sparks flying between us,
The challenge of matching your mind,
I feel the chill as sparks die in between us,
The fear of getting left behind
in the race for the moon.
I feel so sweetly sad when I show him all the stars of the North sky.
We point and we laugh at the glum old loon-face,
my beautiful child and I.
We ache for your presence.
And I sit and sip
in this Costly Coffee Shop,
alone, I tap these words
with a downsizer's pen.
I long to see your face
and shoot the wind with you again.
If you've any comments on this poem, Adam Sear would be pleased to hear from you.