Steven Harz / Americana Soul

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

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copyright 2013 Steven Harz

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