Deep in a well called yesterday
your love letters to me
water damaged and smelling like
the year before last
are attached with twigs
to the mossy stone wall
attempting to dry while the
damp fairy tale’s blue ink
separates on the pages
surrounding me with a
tie-dyed tomorrow
absent of us
for now
So knee-deep in desperation
I whisper my dreams into
the well’s leaky oaken bucket
and pulling the old course rope
my hopes ascend
and as they drip onto my hands
and into my eyes
I pray that they will
meet you at the top and
after drinking in my words
you wipe my love with your sleeve
and then send me down
a line
—
copyright 2013 Steven Harz
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