i.
I whisper your name
content to mend
bruises; feel shame
with a new sun
bright upon
fresh snowfall.
ii.
My tear captures
the metallic taste
of my blood before
it lets go and
falls into the mix
of ocean sorrow.
iii.
How different
the noon sky seems
blending with clouds
and coming rain
as night moves
behind blind shadows.
iv.
I walk between
greens and violets;
a visible spectrum
before turning oaks
as rust burns my soles
and memories.
v.
Love evaporates with
misted breath in the
hot vow of disdain
as despair wrestles
the willow’s weep
amid life jackets and
a fisherman’s net.
Pamela A. Lamppa
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