Thursday, April 21, 2005
After the adventure there is no map
only a vase of fresh lilies, the room
their scent quickens, a bowl of apples cut neat,
the cream pooling its crystal. A place called home
nods by you: far hills but photographs,
a memory not yet come
as the aimless sway of bronze chimes strays
in now from the yard, an odor of rain.
only a vase of fresh lilies, the room
their scent quickens, a bowl of apples cut neat,
the cream pooling its crystal. A place called home
nods by you: far hills but photographs,
a memory not yet come
as the aimless sway of bronze chimes strays
in now from the yard, an odor of rain.
