Log Cabin Chronicles

Black Spruce


Black spruce sway in the wind
I turn to them for solace
because they never complain

White paper consoles me
On its surface words appear
like cricket chirps

When I think of your goodness
I burn and become restless
Meanwhile, what to do?

When we are together
There is such a flowing
Then, what to do?

I want you to understand
that star-crossed lovers are the only kind
Love is out of this world

[EDITOR'S NOTE: Stanley Fefferman writes and make photographs in Toronto.]

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Copyright © 2017 Stanley Fefferman/Log Cabin Chronicles/03.17