Tuesday, July 17, 2012

sonnet one hundred ninety seven

who would have thought that
distance will teach us the meaning
of nights spent alone, of gaping
silence, of windows flung open

letting in a shower of light,
who would have thought that
slumber will draw both of us
closer to the weight of wake,

to the elements that plague
our hours when we are apart,
to the fragrant delirium of

moments when we are
at war, or when we are faced
by the narrowing roads ahead.

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