It seemed a
thing unprocurable-
this true love she sought…
.
But save for the
warmth of morning sun,
her heart remained as untouched
as the cold splashes and whirls
in byzantine labyrinths…
.
And there were times
she cried in quiet desperation,
.
a swept soul clutching
her teddy-bear pillow,
moist with the tears
of unrequited yearning …
.
For now, she was
reconciled to a life of
airy-musings, a starry-eyed
dreamer evincing her strengths
through a prism of forbearance…
.
And each day
she found hope in
countless imaginations,
and each night she held close
a tear-stained pillow . . . . . . . . waiting...
.
richard lloyd cederberg
6/2019


                        Between the Cracks