As far as the eye is relevant,

a sheet of green to wander.

Solid perks upright in the

wind.

 

               Slow

 

shade elevates the cause, young

love on crisping dew

picnic basket shards. It

 

               remembers

 

how you were so

sweet in strides of

endless memory stored

for breakdown. How

deep in a mind

 

               seperate

and incomplete like

the ugliest jigsaw.

 

And when you put your hand across the sun to let that shadow become our moment,

I think that dark

of which we interpret

an end or

some beginning

is just

a short walk back.