in the dark life of days you bore
the slow born breath was never blind;
yesterdays trust haunts the picture of morning.
if a hallowed perfume decays every secret hour,
why should the longings of a fool for opened windows
make god linger on as our prisoner-
when desires can't embrace one star at night,
all our questions lie broken, bleeding out time.
Dec.28 2009
Patti Masterman
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-dark-life-of-days-you-bore/
