echo
jane my sundays spent
wrapped in flowers
sometimes
trying to put ourselves
back together
like long-lost puzzle pieces.

and on the final sigh
before we retire,
saturated in each other;
the bittersweet goodbye
of simultaneously being whole
and separate yet.
090511
...
past when the clouds cleared away, the echoes of our voices escaped us to the heavens. 090511
what's it to you?
who go
blather
from