poetry & things

a wave

There was a road, way back there and a wave so high

it rolled over, washing over me.

Time has a way of moving, looking back to see,

your hands waving back at me.

In the middle of the road, that day

when leaves were falling

over you, over me.

Now sun hits the morning, only to run away

clouds and the trees so windy, all the day

til the moon rises over, like a wave

shining over you,

over me

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