, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


as one
to this reminded
the air I lean into
breath where not a one
our last became
silence spills
into the place
senses lent to word
knew me not –
or reasons why
I came

o more than touching
would I recall just when
verses moved
my weary soul to flight
have me not
the wherewithal
to know as I am known –
flowers bloom
within the darkness

make of me
the twilight bent
o’er places I am home
rumors of some other mystery
washed upon
these eager sands
no longer mine
remnants of a truth
I’m sworn to be

. . .