It is good
to ache with love.
Tonight
the empty
cottonwood arms
let the moon
escape.
Earlier
they threw
all their leaves
and made a path
of gold.
I walk it
in the dark.
It is all
so beautiful,
so empty,
cold. I take
the long
way home.
Falling
September 27, 2012 by Rosemerry
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mmmmmmm.
…but, ahh, it seems to me you’re already home. Oh! Perhaps that IS what you’re saying: you’ll take the long way _of_ home, not the long way _to_ home.
What if you made the opening sentence the penultimate one?
“…cold./It is good/to ache with love. I take/the long/way home.”
Lovely, all that imagery: the moon, the cottonwood arms, the leaves, the gold path, and as usual, that wonderful twist at the end, embracing it all just a little longer. A charmer.