
Slowly stirring
the cold ash,
he sifted her words
from a memory
which had drifted
softly into air,
like smoke.
Vaguely,
she danced
away in silence.
His words slurred
into darkness:
his story was
not her story.
(February 28, 2019)
there's got to be more below the surface
Slowly stirring
the cold ash,
he sifted her words
from a memory
which had drifted
softly into air,
like smoke.
Vaguely,
she danced
away in silence.
His words slurred
into darkness:
his story was
not her story.
(February 28, 2019)