Monday, August 1, 2011

Three Vespers

In the day’s final glow
all colors flow
to the whispering breeze,
dark, rustling

Through the hot afternoon
with purpose I moved
and never did think
bright day would sink
to gloom.

In the gentle west wind,
in the soft starry glow,
I hear you sing
and then I know
never will you 
leave me

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