I take my writing on the road
to show her all that I’ve loved.
To hold her in my arms – at night
as the sky around us falls
into ribbons of light –
heavy still – upon the ground.
I take my writing to the sea
when the sea is all I know.
We swim in the light of the moon
drinking wine with the angels
in the solemnity of night –
hungry for tomorrow.
I take my writing to the edge
where the land is one with the waves.
I bury her in sand
neck deep – eyes wide
where time, leaves us still
and all that’s broken – becomes new.
I take my writing on the road
to show her all that I have loved.
Time goes to waste – as night round her blooms
and all I can see – are these visions of you
out on the road – the life and the will
where the soul of the nomad – is heavier still.
