She evokes in me the wanting of poets,
stillness and beauty on verge of escape
where heart and pen unite and linger
on words and visions too close to relate.
I drink in her silence, embrace the pain
of memories too far gone to negate,
left to ponder why she, of all angels,
did choose me to haunt, to bless, and to bate.
She left me singing this lover’s refrain
and dwells each day in my woeful state,
evoking in me the wanting of poets,
stillness and beauty on verge of escape.
(Originally published in my chapbook, One Thing Leads to Another.)