Pheadra

White%20Stag[1]

for Elvis

I remember happy, how trivial
my desires; a game of solitaire, and you
asleep next to me, running
in dreams, my hunter

I don’t play to win per say
but for the celebratory
graphic; the cards fall, erupt-
a broken glass wind chime

shards of spades, clubs,
hearts, I wonder about
the creator, did he foresee
the blessedness this shattered

hand would bestow upon
my humble expectations?
How I long to be the stag
of your eternal sport

 

 

I conclude this month of poetry( in Mexico time)with my favorite new poem. I am very grateful to all of you for reading and encouraging me in this creative challenge.

These are links to some previously posted poetry
you may enjoy. I think it will be awhile before I post another 🙂

Rubber Boots
Home, Away from Home
Cahoots

Paz, Abby

© 2013 Abby Smith, Writer

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