Wednesday, August 15, 2007

An Anchor

The second Summer's haze shimmers grey

regrets its passage to the sea

calling all comforts to closed blinds

soothing mint winds disinfects the bleeding horizon

faded like the painted red roses rusting on her shoes

transparent though her ghost glows softly upon hearing the right chords

she wraps herself in all his healing sorrows

to catch the faint scent of their last week by the sea

(I couldn't ever bear to capture these moments in focus)

finally having to acknowledge that nest had begun to unravel

10 tempting days drifting by so slowly

just waiting to hear one simple word

never once uttered


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