Leap

cloud without wind
encompass them—
they leapt too late, or too early
for the last aurora, baptise their
brief and tragic passing in your
soft columns, make them
light as two small moonstones—
your silence makes haze of grief;
be their third hand holding hope
to closing eyes—their way will
be the tempest, yet now be
departing shadows,
passing showers,
resolving chimes.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can also donate some of your hard-earned dollars down below—that’s money to me, for free!

 

Gabriel Muoio

$1.00

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s