Hadley

I long for his class, silken war torn, listened to him gasp, in an empty zone, struggling without scorn, hard to see him alone, his removing of the trap, broken unsought, still makes me glad, dancing on tip toes, instead of on thorns, i think happy thoughts, he’s a modern trespass, that i briefly taught, searching for a compass, a life stowed, at the church next door, just like his clothes, you might say it overlaps, how I am re-born, a thing of enduring last, when love is no more.