A ‘Tween the Air and Hard Place

by jerrontables

We tiny feet a pat the ground,

We often lost and broken sounds–

A call for naught and sunken by

The river where we heated lie

cooling.

 

She curtains off, she runner bare,

She mud upon her derriere.

She forest fur and tree to tree–

She out of sight. She lost to me.

space debris.

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