dreamscapes ~

9 Jan

tornadoday

sometimes

in the wake
of a dream
a tear to my face
so quietly
tenderness come
spoke without speaking
knew what was known
and wrapped was my faith
in once more
alone

pressed
as the fairest
of bloom to the page
perfumed reminder of us

dust

what will it matter
when time passes on
the imprint of moments
we stood
in this place
and watched as the sun
burned a hole –
coddled by bourbon
and lace

wisdom has found
a place on my pillow
while knowledge sleeps
out on the porch
makes not a peep
as eternity falls –
swept as the last
perfect star to be saved

e’er will I wonder
of distance not far
and places forgiven
as witness
to change
hands barely touching
remember it all

how I envy
their innocent streams

tellme

as it was written
so are we now
reach out and gather
these words to resound
in the…

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