The apartment door swings open
I call your name
It would have once brought you running
Now it brings only echoes.
The harsh winter light reveals empty space
where once we lived
happily in warmer days.
Sunburned noses
sand in our toes
we smelled of the beach.
But today I need a sweater
and must clear out my closet
on my way to another life
and away
forever
from you.
Always be a poet. Even in prose.
— Charles Baudelaire.
In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]
A sequence of my poems has been published in a hardcover book entitled The Music of Leaving Poems by Tricia McCallum
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