My Friend Shared This To Me Via SMS, Thanks Joy!
After great pain a formal feeling comes--The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs; The stiff Heart questions--was it He that bore? And yesterday--or centuries before?
The feet, mechanical, go round A wooden way Of ground, or air, or ought, Regardless grown, A quartz contentment, like a stone.
This is the hour of lead Remembered if outlived, As freezing persons recollect the snow--First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.
#poetry #love #romance
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless handheld
The feet, mechanical, go round A wooden way Of ground, or air, or ought, Regardless grown, A quartz contentment, like a stone.
This is the hour of lead Remembered if outlived, As freezing persons recollect the snow--First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.
#poetry #love #romance
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless handheld
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