MUSED
BellaOnline Literary Review
Weevil by Mark Berkerey

Table of Contents

Poetry


Pot of Gold

Patty Cole

In a flash, hours race through
this night to rest on your brow.
You are my rainbow and colors
are seeping from your face so fast
I can barely tell you are here.
How time lingers, hovering over you
like a waning romance, neither partner
knowing when to leave. I lean in, wipe
sweat beads from your upper lip, and tell
you: "Itís OK to go." I want to set you freeó
free from the shallow breaths,
free from the irregular heartbeats.
I wonder if you feel how loosely pinned
to this world you are,
and that it is no longer yours.




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