Wednesday, October 05, 2011

Every Night

I return to that spot where we sat under hickory tree. A giant signpost to the stars. I think maybe you left a message, a footprint, or a note etched in bark. 

I’m a lost wandering sailor searching for his ship, a butcher without meat, a farmer without land. 

I search hidden places deep down in the roots of my heart. If I could crawl inside your eye or sit inside your ear and listen to the sound of your voice I could rebuild myself and piggyback on the soft hill of your lips.

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