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how many times
have I heard tell
of blossoms in November
beyond the reach
of reason
where memories are laid
flickers bloom
the faintest scent
of mystery and myrtle
evermore is not so far –
awaiting you
to dream

with stories
of your wanderings
beyond the reach of light
beyond the edge of knowing
where to go
moonlight sits
in shadow
of every present tense
would know the way
you knew
to find me now

wrapped in yellow flowers
as once the same you loved –
grew along the pasture
with lavender
and sage
remember how
the cedars stretched
to block the view of morning
of prying eyes
before the skies
were blue

what winters
have you tucked away
in hollyhock and briar
beneath the fold
where all your secrets lay
of heaven come
one night to find you
standing by the gate
caught between the first to leave
and coming back
to me

. . .