When I drive that road
past sun bleached stones
of minerals and bones
take the turn off at Dragoon
fly past cattle guards and farms
the road that leads
to your house
my view askew
a parallax
I rue
desolate
the cold
moon-blue
of you.
poetry & things
When I drive that road
past sun bleached stones
of minerals and bones
take the turn off at Dragoon
fly past cattle guards and farms
the road that leads
to your house
my view askew
a parallax
I rue
desolate
the cold
moon-blue
of you.