Only the river knows, to mark the date, an anniversary. The night was cloudy and cool. Nearly forty below and three weeks later, we parted ways. Seven days, away, I'm shivering and cold in the arms of another. Dreaming. memories of nights spent on the couch with you bring me near tears.
Sketches of the places we've dreamt, slept in, act as maps of the places we were lost. Wandering in figure eights, painting tracks with our feet in the snow. These last days of winter leave me pure&clear, confused and cold. Only the river knows, to mark the date, in reverie.
thoughts?
Comments
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"Sketches of the places we've dreamt..."
i really really like that line. i like the thought process in this.
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