Hole In The Hedgerow

Poetry, Stories, and Other Musings With Spilt Ink

July 2, 2025

Gravel and Bark

I miss you.

I am sickened by the loneliness of you.

I see you in gravel, I see you in bark.

How the hungry hold bread, how the thirsty drink drops.

How the drowning breathes water, how the addict never stops.

Longing, yearning, craving, and hope.

Each tongue has its own, and maybe some better.

But words can’t for the missing I’ve been.

But burning.

Flames licking at the skin.

Homesick and thinking of home,

I think of you.

The man in the moon keeps bringing you up.

I see you in clouds, and silhouettes, and faces of strangers.

You’re the end of the line,

Of every train of thought,

And of every poem I write.

Posted by:

Rowan

I am a man of words, and preferably those words left unspoken