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Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads,
Like gnats around a streetlight in summer,
The children we could have,
The glimmer of them.

Sometimes I feel them waiting, dozing 
In some antechamber - servants, half-
Listening for the bell. 

Sometimes I see them lying like love letters
In the Dead Letter Office

And sometimes, like tonight, by some black
Second sight I can feel just one of them
Standing on the edge of a cliff by the sea 
In the dark, stretching its arms out 
Desperately to me. 


Anonymous submission.

Added: 21 Jul 2002 | Last Read: 8 Nov 2009 6:15 AM | Viewed: 7624 times

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