picasso child


the sun is far
the moon awry
on a faraway beach
does my heart lie.

where is my true love?
night vessels have passed
aching core realized
this may be my last.

how does a dove
in mourning so sweet
lament a new day
prior to wing’s beat?

and I peering out
of windows of yore
cast older things
upon distant shore.

(c) 2016 rickjstassi