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| Sojourn in the Dust |
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i stand staring blankly. i am the dust on the road. A tear in the tender ocean, and my words, like a disconnected cord. i remember a lonely kid. i remember a true young heart. Patience in an open field, waiting, sure Your voice would stir. Shards of time dig in. Blisters, calluses and sighs, and the broken night wind— but, oh, the song never heard. i see a lonely wrinkled man— his words so many puffs of dust. Standing with a wan smile on his heart, trying to understand. |
This poem is © copyright by mark macdonald
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