Poetry

mourning and missed

you are a handful of almosts.
creaking boughs and stunned silences,
the lone tree on the prairie.

you are long grassed summers and 4 AMs
hazy, moonlit
still.

you are softly spoken secrets
torn out pages
and careful shadows in corners.

i am the fleeting dust in drowsy sunlight,
dissolving vapour trails

Kathryn Waters