I do not have a hiding
place
Or ancient words
whispering low
My lonesome walks are
not a race
To hide a scar but to gently,
let itself show
My dog is old and of
one eye blind
But when he sleeps
next to my feet
It is all peace,
comfort and a moment so kind
That no pain finds
safe harbor in the night’s heat
But still, as if the
seeing eye of my old dog
I do sometimes look into
that simple place
Where a name has found
its whisper and song
To share with very
few, as if a sunset dance
I do not have a hiding
place
Just a name in which I often rest
And whisper
Low
August 29, 2018
© Vahé A. Kazandjian,
2018
No comments:
Post a Comment