our last of days
July 12, 2011
i used to get my thrill from shifting into neutral
down the long hill
because the things they do, i cannot.
you are a mist that settles on my field, never touching, hovering,
leaving a scent of summer
heavy on my mind.
-
i am ivy. it is commanded,
it is demanded of me to climb this wall
pressed flat against the hot stone.
i can only continue to climb
so i do it
because of the chance i have to see you
soar above me
through sky
over sea
for the chance to feel your wings
the rush of air
full on my face
all of you,
beckoning all of me.
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