The Words of Judith K. Witherow  
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Wither Love


Deep in the ground
bulbs are planted
for spring growth.
Nothing will sprout
unless it undergoes a
harsh winter freeze.

Does this coldness
encase you also?
Will the thawing
of your feelings
imitate the process,
or deny a rebirth?

 

 

And, Oh

There was that time
you didn’t see me
watch you swirl wildly
beside the swollen
creek
about to leap with
rain pure intoxication
across banks aching
to embrace you also

Another day you sat
with stiff bowed back
and upraised knees as
if protecting self from
memory
Curly tossed hair covers
the pale face pressed into
trembling hands frozen in
yet another lover’s time
And, oh



She Walks

Our moon sparse house
barely catches a glimpse
of comings and goings.
Shadows traced on the
vacant walls leave old
jagged outlines of a life.

Wind brushed trees rustle
leaves against the panes,
scratching a bereft refrain.
Will your body slip between
slivers of darkness and light
shadowing the watchers sight?

The wistful one awaits slight
creaking upon the splintered
boards. Bare feet don’t allow
much sound to echo warning
for one held captive by need.
Where’ve you been again my
Woman?

 

 
 
   
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