Found In Translation

Awake, for the first time in eons. I love this delicate Tango as Mother nature sings sotto voce, the rain as her voice. the wind, her whisper. Your siren serenade no longer falling on long- deaf ears. My will, pierced by moth-wing needles and catfish dreams, falls under its' own remorse. Words slip from your tongue magically magnetic and i am found, again, for the first time- i realize that down the road there is a tiny garden with a tiny bench, and two weather-pitted cherubs grace the sides, apart, yet altogether knowing they are meant to be, and all that happy horseshit.