When the sun has reached its peak
and the rains have come and gone
and nothing hovers in our grasp
reminding us where we belong
and we search for any sign
but emptiness is all we find.
Our hope sits stagnant in the air
veiled in smoke from distant fires,
I’m left to ask if your still here...
the silence that you’ve cast, unclear.
How dependent I’ve become
waiting on the smallest crumb;
a tiny fix to get me through–
no heavy drugs or needle marks
yet surely, just a word or two?
I live, vicariously it seems,
through the lines that others pen
the balance shifts to leave me scourged
when I no longer see the words.
© Ginny Brannan
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.