for moments
I have traveled –
lost my way 
sometimes –
and swam in silver depths
beyond the pond

wishes of reflection
as streamers curled the night
– pardon me
the way they spelled
your name

open arms
and we began
somewhere east of eden
a blanket made
of flannel – crossed
with pale

once or more
the lying left
in curses by the fence
as tresses braided wheat
into a smile

hand me downs
and where I’ll be
should e’er the taking
bring you –
home another way
forgotten truce

maps betrayed
for tracing –
down every rural road
– spare the wheel
and let your soul
decide

. . .