The Sixteenth Hour

The Sixteenth Hour poem by Desmond. Poems Unrequited blog.

The sixteen hour single parent workday
Coming to a tired end with two down and
One son left to go to dreamland
I will tuck him in on his bed in my saddhana room
And the calm and quiet will descend for me
And my embrace
And too the wound will open
As I lie in the dark
Imagining her distant scent
Remembering every tender glimpse of her face
In the days when we owned this world
And of madness and sorrow there lived
Not a stricken breath or a trace

April 10, 1996
(desmond)

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