BEYOND

Beyond these walls
the accent that is
heard no more
beyond the window
where I sit and poems
are born
beyond the sleepless
nights and early dawns
beyond the thunderous
skies
far beyond where lighting
strikes
beyond the empty city
streets
beyond the memories that
creep up from the past
beyond the silence that
you keep...
is where I'am hanging on
to a dream.


Copyright©1999 by Joan Benedetti
All Rights Reserved