We spoke about a silver
teapot and I said: dust and dull,
shining up and see!
- as good as new.
You said: not dusty, not
frayed, back from never
gone and I thought: yes.
But now I'm wading through dust
and I don't see you.
Where is the teapot?
Shines the silver
still under the dust?
Who of us has gone
away or are we both
not yet back from never
gone?
YOU ARE READING
The Sun Shone at Dawn
PoetryThe wind blows harder under many shades of grey. The sun shone at dawn. *** A collection of haikus, tankas, poems about nature, climate change, platonic love, and any other poems I feel like writing or translating to English.
