Our hands, then

The day sky,

The rolling cloud grey,

Left me empty,

I hear the cars outside,

But I have nothing to say.

*

I think of you,

Skyward, then, was a looking glass:

The crescent moon,

The spinning stars

Danced to a silent tune,

And dark in between,

Was not in between,

Your hand and mine.

3/31/12

-js

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About Joe Suzz

I probably don't fit into your box. View all posts by Joe Suzz

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