Wont

I dreamed I wrote you a postcard
To say: It was a pleasure
But it got lost in the mail and never arrived

The waste of my emotions is like this
Trying to preserve civility in the face of rupture

One could not break in a moment the habit of thought
Habit holds you closely while you die

I have often wondered about
The last chapter of a novel, the final reflections
Nobody reads because the plot is over

Or, the sun shooting like a cuttle-fish into the sky
The stains of affection and gratitude
Long after it has slid off the sea

7 comments

  1. “Trying to preserve civility in the face of rupture.’
    I hear you, Vera, i hear you!

    Big hugs

    john

    Like

    1. You always do — which brings me so much joy.
      Thank you, John.

      Big hugs

      vera

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Beautiful words.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 🙂 thank you so much.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I swear to God, Vera. It sincerely feels…most of the time….like You are writing my soul. Uncanny. And a brilliant gift….to know I am SO understood by someone else….which means there must be others. You bring me into the tribe I that is so scattered. But Your words so often feel like home. Thank You. Wow. ❤️☀️🌷

    Like

    1. It’s funny, I feel the same about yours. Is this what people call kindred spirits?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Truly is, I think.

        Liked by 1 person

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