Thursday, May 31, 2018

the ridge

Written in my journal, messy and fragmented, sometime in February: 


Shadows fade to the valley below. 
Fleeting, fleeing, from burning light. 
Your face is bathed in an amber glow. 
Our new day is starting off right 
Take my hand and lead the way, 
The leaves rustle as we escape. 
Now our shadows mix into the night.
As halos dance around the lights, 
of cars and lamps below our feet. 
The ground is dry, 
the air's fine mist tickles my skin, 
like a cool touch with soulful grace. 
As my silhouette hides your face...

I never finished it...maybe one day I will. 


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