The Land Is Not Wasted*

I’ll stay here, thanks,
my toes content to
see only each other as
“winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow”

White washes
the pictures
in my unblinking heart,
the ones I never
showed you, especially those

January paints over
his face, her voice
melting together as the sun
forgives as it courses
through the window
I forgot to close

The door swings open
my eyes blink at the cold
of new, blank months
the fine,
lined pages of empty calendars so


I’ll come with you but,
my boots are still wet.


*Inspirational credit fully given to Mr. Eliot’s perplexing masterpiece, the first stanza especially.



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