poetry poem

a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
in the sphere
she heard the children playing in the sun
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
just as my fingers on these keys
in the dark and peace of my final bed
still thirteen years
no prey am i of poor thoughts
let me move slowly through the street
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
i burn no incense