Haunts And Hollows Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

I am mindful of the quiet that follows
and clings in shadows of thought and venery,
and I am aware of the haunts and hollows
that creep through the cracks inside the wall of me.

Time unravels within long currents of hair,
cascading down the curve of my autumn spine.
I wait for the then in the here that was there
when I was bathed in love-light and you were mine.

I slip into your presence to stroke the light
and to wrap your touch around my burning dream
as the meadowlark sings from her pale blue height
against the rippling echo of the stream.

I wait for the past in the shape of your ghost,
pursuing fireflies in the back of my mind,
as fog drifts from the tongue of the eastern coast
toward tomorrows that time will leave behind.

The blue breath of morning is hushed in your name.
Love is calibrated in sad tears of truth.
The sunrise is perfect in its gilded frame,
gleaming on the door sill of my fading youth.

You live happily in a world of your own.
My memory mingles with the rain, with dust;
but you live on as a monolith of stone
that time cannot diminish nor weather rust.

I sense all your dreams as they launch for the skies
and lay their shadow on the breadth of my heart.
I love you no matter, whether rest or rise,
whether we are together or far apart.

This life is too short and memories too few.
The ache has intensified more with the years,
and I’ve not forgotten the wonder of you
despite the distance and the tracks of my tears.