Poetry
She was in charge of putting the hoods on the sitting characters and releasing the crows
Through the arched window
While another was in charge of organizing the bicycles
Another would open the curtains partially or fully to control the light
In the room
We all struggle with this life
Tasks to keep us in tact
Questing for love so we don’t lose
The faith of the flaming heart
It’s a delicate nature and it’s bent branch
Can only carry so much weight
One house on a perpendicular slope while trying
To cope with absence of
another
A Vintage wood Mother Mary
The faith is perilous quarry
Of Avalanches
And meteor showers
The depth of this ache is deeper that
Most can fathom
The memory flowers and all the gardeners
That plant our ambitious feelings in rows
Never knowing which part of this fragile beauty
Will soon let go.
Francis A Willey
Jan 30 2024