Poetry

3 days after touchdown

3 days after touchdown_Novel Collective

The fever now seems lifted.
Our girl in the night.
Well we have all caught up.
We have all paid our debt
for time in travel
in tears and bemusement.
And though too young yet to see
the yard drenched in braw moonlight
as bright as you are,
as a Scotia May day,
we’ll play out there another night-time.
For now, silent sleep
by far
the sweetest sound
round here,
these last three days.


Kevin Young_Novel Collective” alt=”Author bio” width=”180″ />
By Kevin S. Young

Lost in the word playground, a vice verser of unsound image. Up to something and anything. I skim, I’m trying, I dabble. Ain’t nobody here for long, and quickly, I’ll ski-paddle. I’m intending to gather my words, because here they are everywhere. This seems to be a way. I can’t explain myself otherwise.

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