Close Enough to Imagine

Courtesy: Pixabay
She grieved love,
the embrace she'd not known,
the reassurance she longed to touch,
to have near,
tenderness like her own.

There were times
she'd watch it from afar,
close her eyes to imagine it was hers,
its arms about her
whispering she wasn't alone.

She'd ask why,
but asking fixed nothing,
she was an achiever who conjured,
who summoned her gifts,
finding words to suit them.

©January 2023
Christina Anne Hawthorne

About Christina Anne Hawthorne

Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
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