By kevin urenda
Date: 2 February 2001
now is the discontent of our winter
At thirty-five thousand feet
the winter seethes below
like a dark
discontent
in the mind of a classical poet
His words whisper in my ears
giving this restlessness
a virtue all its own
even while denying ownership
The shroud enveloping the earth
of your love that passes
further and further below me
only increases the distance
between us
though it is a distance we
cannot see or feel
it is the slow poison of
complacency taking its toll
whether we pay it willingly or not
01/28/01
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner