Dating : Rockabye

These emotions tire me, reaching
far into the neck of my shovel
as I rip my ribcage, to tell a story
worth seven years of a man and
woman, the sky and land, where
cloudlets and droplets fall to
hear the sculpting of mossy clay
layered with earth and its livelihood
like eager children running, and
thought I created this pottery in
the morning, to fill with dirt
cells and souls, none could ever
understand the pain of
burying your first love,
my greatest living sorrow

Photo by Sandy Millar