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.