Can’t Get Across
Can’t get across, the river so deep,
The water is dark, the current steep.
I fix my collar, watch for your lamp.
My fire long cold, matches gone damp.
To the wind, last night, I called your name.
Imagined your face, no answer came.
Again, blame the storm, you cannot hear.
But there in my mind, your voice is clear.
I can feel you are safe, warm, and dry,
And that you know me to be close by.
You brew sweet tea, and quietly wait,
Expecting me soon then at your gate.
Tend your small stove, and add bits of wood.
Dream us together, ways understood.
Can’t get across, the river so deep.
I fold my arms, and drift off to sleep.
M.T. Jamieson and his wife, Susan, live in northeast Ohio with their dog and two sister kitten/cats (all and each, Susan rescued animals). He is twice a former university student, and a proud Viet Nam Era U.S.A.F. veteran. Some of his poems have appeared in recent issues of “WestWard Quarterly”, “Pancakes In Heaven”, “Northern Stars Magazine”, “The Poet’s Art”, “The Poetry Explosion Newsletter”, and “The Lyric”. “Evening Street Press” and “The Sow’s Ear Poetry Review” have accepted pieces for publication.