Sunday, December 13, 2009

weekend tramplings

Patches of darkness spill
onto the gravel
lit by a million fireflies; guiding
flames and memories
songs
and songs of a song

of
the evening
spent walking our minutes by the leash
letting them go, out but not far
we walk them in sync and when you stop
i know its time
to retrace those steps and go home
to arms we belong, times we contain and possessions we become.

walk with me the time
ours
alone
this time, once
walk it slow.

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