Oh send me out sailing
Or to capture a thought
Rowboats are rowing,
In a circular spot
The spirit’s not quelled,
Or even distraught.
After noons and good evenings
of imagined farewells,
such is nary a thing that was never for naught.
Because life is a rondo, structured and sweet.
Tormenting passion comes ‘round, takes a seat.
Sun, moon and stars cause predictable scars
on heavenly bodies, full and complete.
A superior night is in sight,
the moon remembers its place.
The last sigh of evening fades off into space
and I no longer know you in the dark on repeat
while the stars wink and freckle and speak.
Poem By Tammy C.