Without You

Another day, another poem. Number 11.
Love to all.

Without You
By Edith Hope Bishop, November 2018

Don’t worry, Love,
I know how to lose.
It won’t be pretty
but I will proceed
relentless
as each season-
At first I’ll let my
thoughts of you drop
from the trees
settling delicate
on the forest floor
and underfoot
I will, when frost
scrawls the future
revise my memory
striking out your part
in all this
as snowdrops
push upward
I’ll blanket myself
with phrases erased
each new leaf
will remind me
of a time we might
have kissed
but stepped sideways
and when sun
threatens to melt
my very breath
I’ll lie awake
drenched
alive in the
death of us.

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