Return – Wednesday

He is returning soon,
When the moon meets the sun
And flowers begin to bloom.
His face will cower over mine
As he speaks,
From the tip of his mind.
Such words!
They escape in riddles of verse,
Screaming into the high heavens
As night falls.

He his returning, come morning,
As I wait by the open door,
Holding it at his feet
In such pure defeat!
I long to understand his journey,
His every road
And every corner.
I want to imagine what his eyes were like
When they saw the fine sunlight.

I’ll leave empty letters
In every walkway,
So when he reaches them,
He’ll find a page
And with every new page,
A new gesture of myself.

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