NaPoWriMo #27

Sometimes poems come like songs.  The first five lines of this one came as I waited this cool, cloudy morning to be let into the building at work (that is, my steady income work).

Sweet, don’t call me to the light
Sweet, don’t call me out
Emotions like heartache
a word to abide
if only I’d listen
instead I sneaksneak to the edge
take a peek      take a full-blown fantasy
wild          tighten the reins
shake my head
knowing I can’t let this grow
it grows                it goes
out    out       stamped   trampled
Sweet, don’t call me to the light
Sweet, don’t call me out
can’t hide the blush
my hair is up
stumble   mumble   fumble    ever a fool
I’ll hid this precious       have this precious
thing like light in shadows
like petals in rain
tell            I’d whisper
reach         I’d hold on
I know better         I survived the landslide
a few weeks later, it won’t matter
Sweet, don’t call me to the light
Sweet, don’t call me out

 

© 2013 Robin A. Sams

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