Editor’s Note: Recently three poems by Sandy Cosgrave, a deceased Ninepatcher, came to me. Following is the last.

My heart moans

With the wind,

Remembering days

Long past,

Faces gone

And vanished in time.

Pain buffets my

Longing, first this

Way, then that,

Sharp, clear, bright.

Memories flash past,

Barely glimpsed,

leaving whirling fragments

of feeling, to linger

in the blue….

The hissing winds of time

Lay bare my soul,

Strip off soft layers

of comfort and lies,

hurl mocking challenge

to my protestations,

toss me willy-nilly

in the direction

they want me to go.

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