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.
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