Monday, August 16, 2010

Porch Steps at Dusk

Foreign words tangle between laced fingers beneath a blanket of fog

Decibels shouted don't surmount to the range to exclaim this ecstasy

Streams of dew trace the outline of a porcelain grin trickling into a puddle of bliss, cradled in the foothills of the mountains

A weekend getaway melts away the purpose of liberation and gives way to fulfilled wishes
for plurality

Boughs no longer bear the scorn of winter,
now flourishing under daytime stars and
swaying to unending, repeating harmonies

The only waste is the misery of
farewell as oceans recede from view

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