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Sometimes you matter more than Poetry A night grown old and breathless. We spend all our words on all the unsaid of all this time passed in Laughter. And looking your way, space defined by your still so familiar lines, your hand having found its home in the arch of my spine, your head layed down in helpless care for all my losses, I remember just how much You can be Reality That sometimes you matter more than Poetry That for all the confusion here you are, so dearly, And so i remember to feel Grateful. |
Sometimes you matter more the Poetry © 2000 by J. Carrington Scott
All rights reserved.