Acquainted, am I,with captivation — the shadow and soundsof the evening’s darkening,
Coin a conversationand the day may seem brighter,the evening warmer still,bare-shouldered to the witand press
No one ever says thatthunder only rolls once,
So, I once dreamt of a roadthat never circles back,and a jet that trails to different days,like a certain Jack;unencumbered
Disclosure, when my lipsunshush, sometimes in bedand with a wish, in the swirlof alcohol and other lingering spirits.
We once grew here, rootboundtogether, in our sheltered garden.
Our door,once the guardian of my solace,no longer keeps my secrets in.It is a gouged dichotomyof being closed, yet broken…
Plant a seed and germinatea conversation,if not forgiveness.