At_Last

Adrift G.F.E. McGuiness

In affections Rejections As Arms reach out to me. In sentiment, Resentment. Still, Arms reach out to me.

Devotion, love, old passion's graces Each, declining, memory traces Hands held out in air, Ungrasping my despair. Simple folk reach out to me In gestures of accord But I can not reflect my hands Held naked of their sword. Disarming words Charming herds as cattle To their end. Arms have reached And breached before, While I was trusting, then.

In alignment, Confinement. At arms, Reach out to me.

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