no more slowly we're decaying, though they
may fill our humble fields of green
with fears of troubled movement and
old violence in between.
but now the drum they steady beat goes swaying in the
nascent autumn winds--
its thinning blankets muffle night,
its haunting hollow rings.
tonight the sea is sinking with us--
its waves
sound like its sighs--
and on its broken mirror face
i still make out its eyes.
butofcourse no dream of ours will ever see the silky dawn
in their dashes strewn along the sand--
our thoughts and hearts are torn apart
and buried in our hands.
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