Tuesday, February 05, 2013

Near sleep

The grey grey blows through my mind,
passing through sticky  syrup sweet.
Leaving the lingering wisps of sugar
upon fingers and struggling eyes.

Spring and heliotropes are away,
hiding themselves in other vales.
But the breathed in blast of heat,
Gives us hope its not so long.

Spring engrave upon us your days,
with warms and wizen tomorrows.
That hold adventure close to vests
and reveal only when we look

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