Tuesday, July 17, 2012

sonnet two hundred

my thoughts stumble until
it finds you in the corner,
sheathed with all that
i can recall of warmth,

the granulated red hues of
a burning afternoon sun
soon possess the carving
metaphor of that day you left,

as you walked away from me,
as i traced the steps you
took leading you to a place

without me, a night without
us, days and moments we would
be enveloped by faith and hope.

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