Monday, April 22, 2013

22 - Everything (Writing About an Image)

When nothing is left except
the palaces we built as children

when the sky streaks gold
and bleeds into the last area of dark

look for me
behind our favorite pillar

behind the black-edged mountains
with a halo of light

When all the we can hear is
our heartbeats

the song
we wrote as children

find me
take my hand

I'll lead you safely into the dark

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