Along the Way: A Little Book of Poems

Delicate filament,
fiber of light divine –
golden flame consumes, becomes you.

I went up into the mountains in
September and wished you were there.
I chose an unknown trail

You are such a nice touch
in my life –
As morning settles freshly upon leaves

I flew up to the mountains in
September and hoped you would
be there. And so our lives

Wished with you I could spend unmeasured time,
together, alone, you and I.

I played the harp but heard no sound.
Was I shooting arrows into the night?
Or shall I in another hear the music resound?