Sunday, April 20, 2008

the wind turns up the soil 2

Turbulent winds break branches, swirl soil into dust storms
In a blue blue sky so clear, so still
Dreams filled with people known only to each other
In my memories, red stained rooms
Your touch reveals, a small crouched man atop the swings
A double-take in the corner of my eye
Extend through to create long lines, muscles unuse to expansion
Return to a sorrow the wind dries a mirror's reflection

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