Monday, September 10, 2012

The Art of Preservation

You trickle through my thought; a soothing sigh
A gold leaf etched against the azure sky
Before it falls in soft, soundless descent
To sleep upon the grass, peaceful, content
And there you rest in strongholds of my heart
Where we will never, ever be

Miles sweep the landscape; highways, hills and trees
Nature's paintbrush creating breath-taking boundaries
But thought ignores the  visual ramparts of the flesh
As it implores;  love, loss, longing enmesh
Their tenure in the fabric of the heart
Where will never, ever be


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