By Stands with a smile
Date: 4 November 2000
The cycle
The rising moon has silvered
the nighted steets
the lights are glittering
far below Locust Hill.
Crickets
singing in the autumn grass
sounding to my wandering mind
as though they whisper
secretly, your name.
I remember your voice
in the darkness
the music of it
like some sweet wind
blowing through me
freeing dreams
a childs soap bubbles
carried to hang shining
and precious in the air.
All things today
have turned to you.
The circle of my mind
returns again and again.
The stars will spin
tonight..the moon continue
in it's course without me
but I..cannot.
I'm captured and circling
listening to your voice
inside.
Lost beneath your memory
and the rising autumn moon.
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