you set out to do
walking--
the right of way
in some forgotten land.
Sometimes it is a thing
given--
mementos
one, two and three
and then the good-bye.
Today it is a thing
floating--
the motes of dust
the motes of dust
in the space between us.
Tomorrow it is
released
an exhalation--
mantra or chant--
less than
yesterday, more
than tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment