Slipping by

Somewhere a river dreams its way toward a brother
or the ocean, deep in meditation of its still walls and neighbors.
Somewhere a tree stretches its fingers into the wind slipping by,
a breeze peppered with the harmony of flowers cuddling a hillside
somewhere off beyond the streets thick in their urban orchestra,
humming to that frantic melody velvet and suffocating,
background music to the plodding feet of its passengers and patrons
oblivious to the dimness cast on time’s vibrancy cowering within.
Somewhere, not far from here, or perhaps an eternity away,
I’ve let loose my quivering demons, traded them for your scent,
banished their throbbing anxiousness to somewhere still and pale,
and in their wake I find only the will to listen to the passing day,
anxious but with purpose, awaiting your laughter to shake me alive.



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