Conversations At Dusk

And what if on that long walk you had said of me this in-between day Is yours. Would the dry earth open? Would we burn  bridges to Consume all? In the sureness of mind that our words will repeat. A thousand islands bustled along, streets of dead language and dusk. While you translated anograms on pavement patterns .   And in the rapid passing of night we rush from timeless sleep, and whisper in soft tones to awaken     I the traveller of wind This memory I write  is but the conversation of your voice,   and we will watch  the sky break again on the promise that we made.