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The Overflow from Dreamcatchers Spilling Out on Persian Rugs

in amongst the junipers, I took your hand
though it felt just like a child’s then;
soft and warm
and dangling lazy at the wrist
bracelets clinking, perspiration
mingling with the faded strings
leaving sky blue pinpricks
of color on your skin.
we were
dodging raised roots
and weeds that splayed
across the beaten path,
as you told me
of the thrush’s song
and the nests of blackbirds
deftly mingling with the leaves.
we came
to a clearing.
we stopped
and let the dusty rays
of chamomile shine
and linger on our faces.
the lightest breeze brought us the sound
of distant laughter;
three notes high, then two notes low
and the fading cry of church bells
ringing out from ‘cross town.
I moved to kiss you, but you turned away
as the wind twisted and curled the waves
of your sun stained hair.
you turned your head, simply straining to hear
the quiet call of a bird
whose name you couldn’t place.

19 Feb 07

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nice addition to your others, it seems.
 — listen


Thank you.

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

no, not at all.
 — listen

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