the eastern curtains burn each morning as if it were their last

goodbye to a loved one on a train platform or at the docks,

inexorable machinery moving the beloved away, away.

tonight i am burning too, the setting sun glaze of welcome home,

the long embrace that will not end, the tightness of

i have missed you, of i did not know if i would see you again,

and in my arms lies the whole fragile world, with all its shattered charms.


2 thoughts on “warmth

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