The following poem is from my "October Meditations" collection:
NEGOTIATING WITH THE DEAD
As the morning light approaches,
Once more, my bedroom is peopled with ghosts
In discourse with the birds outside
Nights and days are pillowed
On my never ending stream of desire --
A maze of lingering echoes:
Anniversaries are fallen blossoms
Strewn upon the ground,
Sticking to the soles of my feet --
Tendrils of memories
Reliving the last of their lives, but
Another negotiation to turn my weak blood into wine
© George H. E. Koehler, 2001 and 2005
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