hidden comfort with a summer visit left for the feeding of yet again another trip of humility.
while one mourning dove cries out to another
you stay the chase a city and a half away.
pondering many wasted hours,
i recollect the slurred speech of two bodies stirring the juice of a sweet orange,
running upstream into the gaping rivers of where hands meet.
words filled of truth unhampered or merely hollow deception.
silence overturned.
content ruined in one hopeful process of creating a love novel objective.
newly carved artistic reference of emotion?
or binding threads beginning to entwine under the patience of a trail uncovered.
29 July 2008
No comments:
Post a Comment