Miles and Miles Away.
Unlucky is my infancy that made you run
the silence already broken, so happily born
within that mild tune,
that gently stroke my blushing cheek.
Strong is the chain
that tempered my thoughts, that make me differ
between that blind negligence
and your nature’s enthralled loveliness.
So is also the heat and fire
that labour from the roots of my bone
that never will in quiet rest, thy love like mine, to cease
in cruelty ,pity and distress.
So strong is the wind of my faded breath
that I can hold you in this wide air
guarding the wildness in your chest
playing with such rare strength and fair.
Sore is my broken heart, still beating in boldness,
whilst my poor lips whispering
with that mild and lessening tune, stroking my cheek,
and now following your steps , miles and miles away.
January 2017 ©k.c.