by poetrydiary

I can watch golden-crowned clouds flee today’s
rebellious sun,
but who can I tell without you?

I can face yew trees at dusk, scent-swamped
and proud, beyond time,
but who can I hold without you?

I can drive north across hills, sensual
like flesh, and warmed now,
but who’s hand to touch without yours?

I can dream and wonder, imagine you
with me, yet you’re not,
and no dream can match your last look.