Afternoon Poem, June 25, 2016


He had hoped, believed even
That the feeling would come back
And then he would have the words
He could not name it, exactly
But he knew it when he felt it
That rush of air, that dive into cold water
Even though he had not felt it
For so long

He knew, believed even
That it might be conjured
With the right mix of people
And ceremony.

He bet on that
As he left the last page empty
Hoping, believing even
That all would flood back in
When the time came
Then he would hear the words
And be certain of them
Then the bells would ring.

Copyright 2016

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