poetry

& one more

The Cold Hill Side

As months and years accumulate,
I miss you more and more.
Forgetting where I put the key,
I sometimes find a door

and other times feel stunned and lost,
though living in my own
body and life, presumably,
bewildered and alone

as the knight, kidnapped and released
to a dim world, who said
And I awoke and found me here
on the cold hill side.

Again, Rachel Hadas, from the New Yorker. She is, by the way, a Hopkins alum from when the MFA was an MA.

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