Sunday, November 11, 2007


Holding on tight like Christmas

to the white rusted rails

standing on the spot where you heard her kiss the ground

at the top of the steps

stood waiting to sirens smashing silence

as a prisoner of pines made ever ill

by their duality

surrendered there but no one noticed

6 waiting days call cresting winds

to the crashing thunder of hooves

the sound of your jewelry clinking in the wind

then muted against your soft dark hair

looking down the passionate knife point just outside your arms

the crumbling ghosts of your kisses trailing vespers

slow moving at the speed of a lifetime

living hidden in leaves changing

falling colours

10 years later

finally set each other free

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