Friday, August 3, 2007

Goshikidai


dressed there in the daily colors

all her hues becoming a bright smudged blur

making contact on the platform

wild

watching the trails your waving hand makes

every heavy moment of movement in slow motion

a tempest

and time moves on for us

and all manner of wanting back our sweetest memories

remains refracted light

through our stained glass recollections

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