A reverie of a crushing lilt
A rise that is all alone.
Rapt in a slow undoing
A forlorn fall that is alive calls
It is here.
Glimmering there waits a golden air
A dutiful clock is ticking bright
Though time refuses to stir,
Musing stubbornly of an azure noon; when
It was here.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
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