I weave through winter memories
In search of the pieces that you left
Through this series of quite questions
And your constant anecdotes
I trip over your scent and wonder,
How long I will allow
This distance to evoke me?
This one seems to hold one tightly.
Yet I fumble and fall over
Because you have left them lying
And they’re in my way.
(c) Shelley Blake, 2008
About the author
Australian poet and freelance writer, Shelley Blake has been writing from a very early age. Some of her work has been published in magazines that include The Program Melbourne; Inpress Magazine; The Skinny; and, The Ranfurly Review.