Categories
Poetry

Pain

Pain

Your absence is not what you think.
It’s not your chair expecting company
or mail left unopened.
It can be moonlight.
I think of how I find happiness:
I’m walking in a meadow,
sun full on my face.
It comes not because
I miss thorns and nettles.
It comes because
my feet sink into sweet clover
and I smell wild roses before
I spot them spilling
over the split rail fence.
I know you by your presence.
One day
I’ll set your phantom free
but not until
I fill your void with light.



















By markthegrey

I am a biologist, author, poet, professor, and parent. I nest in Aurora, IL with my spouse and about two to four kids.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s