read between the lines
I whispered with no voice
because that is where truth tiptoes
whistling past the graveyard
of excuse and explanation
holding itself close as a baby
taken to breast
the thought just after
the prayer has ended
the wish too fragile
to make over the candle flames
the sound in the room
after a death
So much of the story is found between the lines. The images you have created are quietly bold – and aching. The fragility so very real and clear..very good to read your wonderful work again. I hope you are well