Brightening spirit within the dancing coloured lights when the words will not reveal their mystery in their memories of twinkling feelings
Friday, September 12, 2014
Hazel
Hazel and the leaving, and the wine, and the mention of it, and the wondering, is she? Does she? And I scurry back to the original position, and the pains of the day, and my back, and looking for some kind of improvement. And then thinking of tomorrow, and wondering if I should treat in the same way that I treated today, and colours of culture, facing onto me, and again wine, and sleek and kind and laughing. I walk away, and through the door of departure, wishing I could linger, and that this moment could too. And eyes, and the longing, and the ages, and the difference, and the odds, and reality, and this moment, in the now.
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