Cheryl Derby

Troy, New York, USA

The Still Place

His head inclined,
The sweet secret he keeps, given up to the stars
First points emerging, whispering quietly, bitterly, wisely
My love hangs in the balance
In halting moments between snowflakes
Between wind rattling ice
Even thorns are encrusted in the still place he's gone to
Like winter's dream it hangs on and on
My love
This tree asking sky, moon
That slips into the gauze of my sleeve
Through the heart
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