Tagged: hat

march catches me off

there is a compass

there is a compass
recalibrating within
every storm-tossed hat

a needle to point northward
a strong hand to guide it home

i can pull Christmas

i have weighted

i have weighted
of you
on some other
spring, under a new
straw hat, rose-hued,
a string to secure.

you were holding
my hand
on some other
spring, the sun
beating down on us, but
you never let go.

i have weighted
memories of you
like an old tune –
hold my hand through
this, because somewhere
a string will snap, muted