Out of your sight

If I should hold your mirror

Steady for long enough,

Do you think you would see me?

I who am but a trinket

And a blemish in your life.

I once wrote of you

As a winter coat,

That which is a shield of wool or fur

Within which you hearth your heart.

When I was your poker.

We kept out all coldness.

Therein I muted sinful sayings

Then of juice and as a witch did you alternate.

The stamen became the coast cadet.

Cocooned by indivisible lust

I sought shelter inside you.

But now as I have become Walnut

You tend to pass on me.

I who am behind your glass,

Now of similar silver,

Am become invisible.

As if coated now with the dust of history,

Or am over your shoulder,

Which ever I amble

Out of your sight.

Copyright 2018 Christopher Thompson.

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