1985-10-25

            Hurt drawn across her
              hanging fragile
            in brittle, painful self-control.
              What to say…
                 in a heart-storm.
            No longer slash and tear
              rip and run
            but another note there
              that I cannot recognize
                 in Rose of 15 years.
                           gallagher
                           25 Oct 85

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

This entry was posted on Friday, October 25th, 1985 at 00:00 and is filed under 1985, Rose. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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1985-10-25

         Come the clouds of the empty spaces
           like snow drifting into my memories.
         I feel that empty ache
           and see faces that may now be
              only photograph memories.
         Love and aging and unfolding;
           these flowers in our lives
         that bloom with such passion
           and fade so hard
              against relentless time.
         Chris at six, only once.
           Every moment precious, unstoppable.
         Blood and love, kinship there,
           my soul divided.
         See how it is…
           We bet our lives so utterly
         in the stories we’re weaving,
           the beds where we sleep.
                                 gallagher
                                 25 Oct 85

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

This entry was posted on Friday, October 25th, 1985 at 00:02 and is filed under 1985. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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