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scatter to west
the weight of my winds
as proof of my lowly
so dear was the tracing
of ways we were come
to begin
where we ended

from the road
even now
forgotten lays best
weeds spent with briar
and thorn
recalled to our worth
existence somehow
shall hold not my heart
for one moment

how fitful
this dreaming
this almost becomes –
as you martyr yourself
while I wait
skilled at forgiveness
tho never once asked
the nails almost bent
in surrender
of late

the well
needs repair in the autumn
let not the leaves
have their way
to find what was needed
are souvenirs still
carved into places
time can’t betray

for another
once offered –
begged without word
the meaning of life
from a star
shifted the covers
while silence snuck in
left me a note
of your going

the hinges
have rusted –
and there go the rhymes
tho echoed
by living –
the sharing divine
of a path
not so separate
as the ways you have been
a kiss waiting tender
your coming

. . .