Poetic Interlude XVI

In the esoteric morning
When the sun has crawled my way
And I’ve woken far too early
With a rising urge to pray –

With the rigid miles between us
That will shortly bring you night,
As I listen to the birdsong
With its need to fuck or fight –

And the Moon, she still is waiting,
So I trust you to her care:
Though you’re a hemisphere away
Your lips taste of despair.

Yes, I know that it’s your evening
As I watch the Sun arise,
Tonight, perhaps, you’ll dream of me
And hold me, while I cry.


©2013 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved

About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
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