He finds she lingers like woodsmoke on a winter’s night. A scent at once pleasing pungent with memories he pulls close; remembrance sinking its claws in deep …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
Those that blanket the small hours of the night, cocooned in everything the mind shutters while awake. Dreams inscrutable in the light of day, message unread, a fragment of memory we ache to retain …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday