A Poem a Day Keeps the Zoloft Away

After long days

in front of the flames

and the metal sparks

I would find you expectantly in

the springs by the root of

the mountain river

and together we would drink each

other’s crispness with parched lips,

it bothered me when you left,

the ones that leave the soonest

stay with me the longest,

but as an old man I can

look back and not mind so much,

but as the young man

it burns matchsticks in my heart.

#323