Published in Roi Fainéant Press
roifaineantarchive.wixsite.com/rf-arc-hive/post/dear-sarah-years-of-plenty-by-andrew-senior
roifaineantarchive.wixsite.com/rf-arc-hive/post/dear-sarah-years-of-plenty-by-andrew-senior
Strange the sadness lingering.
A shadow of pain
is not pain itself.
The shape of me
fits perfectly in the memory.
I never cried
though not for want of tears.
Rather fear of the wretched exposure.
An error in approach, perhaps.
Heavier, yet carried,
you felt out the shape of me,
traced my every step
through the unlit,
reforging, reshaping, time
and time over,
all the way
to the rising edge
of our years of plenty.
A shadow of pain
is not pain itself.
The shape of me
fits perfectly in the memory.
I never cried
though not for want of tears.
Rather fear of the wretched exposure.
An error in approach, perhaps.
Heavier, yet carried,
you felt out the shape of me,
traced my every step
through the unlit,
reforging, reshaping, time
and time over,
all the way
to the rising edge
of our years of plenty.