The Apple Lands

Stone-broken at the waters lip, spun Round and starfished on this shrinking hill. We gaze across the Apple Lands. Distant fires rise in spirals, shifting. The dog dance of our straying hearts Calls us back to the razored road, The high path we walked beneath Cold singing stars. Now haunted by Mute memories, shouting in signs, of Hands once struck, and honesty pledged. We wore these hearts, worn out with Hope. Split shoed, striding on, we Forgot the sound of friends, No substitute for brothers. Clinging tightly, we clutched to Survive, and pulled each other under