hook_mountain Annie111 That day, as March brewed its pale bluster I returned to the stone wall on the river Remembering a fall day years earlier When my life, quivering and newborn Grew like an oily bubble under the orange leaves Laughing, I could not believe that we had crushed The dirt and stones vertically Reaching the wall and watching the Troll-like tugboats pull downstream, Past our young, lazy, Sunday islands Silly affection; her coarse brown hair, his Constant hesitance, the way he lurches to speak And the gentle, burnt breeze bringing us The clarity of winter under October's lovely, smoky breath. Another fall passed and the blur of winter Gave way to spring Now with my lover, I was gently guided To the wall by his warmth and the crisp new Green roots, as we lay like children and our smiles reflected the glinting green light through the trees and no-one else on earth was alive And I knew what it was like to be Breathless and gently touching And then this curious month of March, as winter gasped and died A slow, agonizing death Alone, I was at the wall crying The tugboats groaned in the distance For the first time, everything was deafening And uncertain I went down and wrote a name in the sand I could not think of words or thoughts Just the brambles below the wall Dancing in the cold silence I left hoping that in summer we would all picnic And watch lights on the river But nothing could ever be the same Every man is indeed an island You want me to live on yours all alone 030507 what's it to you? who go blather from