Monday, October 3, 2011

Hopeless but I don't know it...

Rain on concrete steps
fades to grey like your hair in the sun

if not for the temporary stain
of damp love, I've never be clean

you throw me about like a sapling
in a tropical storm; winds like hands caress and slap

waves broke on my back all summer
in that green-blue lake of your ebbing tide

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