IT DIDN’T FEEL LIKE DRIFTING
You went away one October day.
I told myself we drifted apart
Though my heart doesn’t remember it that way
Drifting___ is morning mist
burning into full-fledged day
Shadows into sunlight
Winds: wanderers
But you leaving that brisk November day
That was howling gales hurling
sharp objects into helpless creatures
Powerful waves
Crashing the shore in rampages
To carry off
my sad and broken heart
Susan’s poems and fiction are on Eastown Fiction, Tryst 3, Word Salad, Pens On Fire, Ken *Again, Hackwriters, and Penwood Review. In 2007, she won the grand prize for poetry from Oneswan.
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