by Tea Solon whensoever slumberconsigns to oblivionits visits in momentsbetween cold midnightand warm sunrise yourpoetry holds me.soothing. much likento how the windsongbrush cold fire on mycheeks at early dawnor how the wavesongstroke warm ice on myraven hair at late dusk.your poetry finds me.i am never alone or losti am never neglected ordeserted. in my solitudeyour moving …






