Rustling - a Poem

Jillian McCoy
Somewhere in the middle of the night

alive with sounds that speak to me

memories of time we never thought would end

crisp white days and neon nights

Feeling like the last man standing

as the landscape of my heart changes again

Valleys where I scooped you out

hills where you'd never been

My mind reels out into the smooth wind

imagining what could have been

we both know I've let you go

this is just a private moment of trembling.

Published by Jillian McCoy

I'm a freelance writer and college student based in Philadelphia. Though I'll write just about anything as a "pen for hire," I specialize in short-form content written for the web. Some of my favorite subj...  View profile

3 Comments

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  • Honora James4/29/2010

    Beautiful...

  • Tony Payne4/26/2010

    Wonderful.

  • Faye Fairley4/26/2010

    lovely, thanks :)

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