scottott
A box of clocks that let time slip away And stacks of Popular Mechanics A world of tomorrows from yesterday A cozy chair that's all used up And tools that need tools to fix them up A life arrayed in box lots Displayed on porch, and floor …
She waits just beyond the pane Of glass framed in cedar, yet Who can see her, concede her Imminence is hindered only By our hesitance? We need her. She waits just beyond the pain, Of loss framed in satin, yet Who can touch her, rush her…