The Edge of You

 

Every dawn births a poet’s song-

a canvas of dreams, both right and wrong;

for every moment gives the world

a poet, an artist, a criminal unfurled.

And in you, I tried to quiet

the crooked voices of the riot,

to find the heart of mercy kept,

a love that lived where silence slept.

But each time I turned to see,

you stood where I could never be-

not here, not now, not in my sight,

but at the edge of the turning night.

As the world keeps spinning fast,

I follow trails the winds have cast;

you stand upon the shifting sand,

beyond the grasp of reaching hands.

I chase again-yet once I’m near,

you move to where the skies are clear;

you wait beside the ocean’s line,

then climb the heavens, so divine.

With ink that fades but will not fall,

I write a letter, thin and small-

a final proof that I have tried,

that I have searched, that I have cried.

Keep it safe, my love, my guide,

as memory’s flame the years cannot hide;

a monument of hope unmet,

of love remembered-not regret.