Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Promised chance

under the cover
of morning in glory,
riding the wind
like a bird. . .
just past the shadow
of dusk ever after,
nothing is spoken
nothing is heard. . .
under the blanket
of midnight seclusion,
taking a chance
on a word. . .
just past the glimmer
of moonlight tomorrow,
promises broken
for reasons absurd. . .

1998

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