Ever Thine.

He, that great winged, spiraling swirl, through an echo of time,
ever thine,
I called out to him, Know that you are mine,
Slick, black, heart attack of need
on thee reverie I feed
lest my soul be wretched in longing
and bleed out sickly dark and marrow making
in these words
I dare not ask what you have heard,
whispered from me,
for now I rest my head in slumber,
I’ll count no sheep nor backwards number,
through the hours of the distance,
I’ll watch the dream for where that bird flies,
I close my eyes and see
that great winged creature
marking minutes to a destiny,
he, who keeps me close
and sets me free.

~Teri Skultety,Β  1/2/14
first poem of the new year