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The Overflow from Dreamcatchers Spilling Out on Persian Rugs
the_recluse

in amongst the junipers, I took your hand
 1
though it felt just like a child’s then;
 2
soft and warm
 3
and dangling lazy at the wrist
 4
bracelets clinking, perspiration
 5
mingling with the faded strings
 6
leaving sky blue pinpricks
 7
of color on your skin.
 8
 
 
we were
 9
dodging raised roots
 10
and weeds that splayed
 11
across the beaten path,
 12
as you told me
 13
of the thrush’s song
 14
and the nests of blackbirds
 15
deftly mingling with the leaves.
 16
 
 
we came
 17
to a clearing.
 18
we stopped
 19
and let the dusty rays
 20
of chamomile shine
 21
and linger on our faces.
 22
the lightest breeze brought us the sound
 23
of distant laughter;
 24
three notes high, then two notes low
 25
and the fading cry of church bells
 26
ringing out from ‘cross town.
 27
 
 
I moved to kiss you, but you turned away
 28
as the wind twisted and curled the waves
 29
of your sun stained hair.
 30
you turned your head, simply straining to hear
 31
the quiet call of a bird
 32
whose name you couldn’t place.
 33

19 Feb 07

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Comments:

nice addition to your others, it seems.
 — listen

listen,

Thank you.

So you didn't think the narrative felt too loose?
 — the_recluse

no, not at all.
 — listen

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