Poetry

INTROSPECTION

What eyes I had before my time on earth,
What shape your face defined in fractal grace,
Whose arms we held entwined before our birth,
Are not revealed by love, or thoughts we chase.
And yet I sit, as though through inward gaze
I dig myself a home in selves of old.
I rest in dreaming of my future days,
As hoped-for warmth drives stragglers through the cold.
But if I feel my soul grow back through time,
In time to come I should then reach the sky,
Which makes my thoughts of life unsown a crime;
The buds of future souls dry up and die.

Comments or questions? Email to info[AT]henryharvey.com.
Copyright Henry Harvey 2006.