Saturday, November 8, 2014

for T. Kryss

for T. Kryss

our life is not a fiction novel i said
or maybe it could be
you after all are better
than any movie or dream
(i mean what you make of me)
you do have harts breath hawk
eyes and brown feet
i stepped on yours with my
own white feet you were so composed
back there inside the somewhat private
meadow before we thought to walk towards
the sun after those startled rabbits

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