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I know you
as a plume of eager stems,
as a wail of virgin waters
poured to stone.
As silver cord and plastic black,
hushed his vigil silent.
As words tho never
move alone.
Shallowtail and Phoebe,
Luna blue with breath.
What more would come as love
to survive this patient death.
More than earnest,
one would choose this place to bless.
As touch,
such tiny fingers
to stolen lights
are pressed.
I know you,
as a mother knows her charge,
were not for dark
(twilight kept at bay).
Worn not the trails,
forgotten every cry to home –
could seek
as close one heart,
another fell away.
He leans into the current
was only meant for this –
a moment
fluttered lightly to her skin.
Could not speak,
would not eat,
lived for once – no more.
Wings may never fly
will soar again.
Silken dream –
suspended truths
stain the tender bark,
was left to taste
and not with sight bestowed.
All of these
remembered now,
as places you were love.
I turn my head
(to wonder)
this you I know.