PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The clock strikes three AM once again

I sit here with my head in my hands

Were there no other heads

in which your memory

could land?

Must “as low as you can go”

be redefined with each passing

second of time?

If so, why must my soul

be the dictionary?



Ahhh, but you my love,

You sleep to gentle summer winds

Crescent nights and un-blue days

Just as well, as time will tell

Meanwhile…please leave



© 2002 Dennis Hicks