Sands
Tilting.
You
were an hour glass,
figure,
sand running,
my
absolute interest
to
observe your timing.
I
hope to feel you,
know
the relation of love,
where
your mechanisms,
could
fill my days.
Somehow
nothing yet moves,
empty
are the echoes,
all
I'd wanted now gone,
reduced
to a pile.
Let
the winds blow me,
renew
all I'd beheld,
a
taste of your smiles,
and
how good your hair smelled.
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