Bygones with wine
in a barrage of time
is how I see what
came before.

Electric and proud,
the blue, sunken shroud
that carried you to me;
to this crumbling shore.

Clouded islands
float overhead
distilled to a fine mist;
watertight and keening.

Walk and talk
to the moon and back,
it is always this place;
always this feeling.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s