Ebb and Flow

I can see past stars;
feeling, falling soft
like moon’s light
in autumn.

If petals could speak,
soft sounds would ensue
while larks tread lightly;
love songs lingering
in my pockets.

If I may borrow a seat
upon your rippled sand;
words seeping
through slits;
droplets, hidden

behind white-laced reasons
drawn into hearts,
buried, broken

or just open too wide
for old wounds to heal.

~

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