The POM
Published in

The POM

Memorium

early

Photo by Eric Muhr on Unsplash

When at last just you and I are left,
Having shed, through their indifference,
Not our own, the rest,
We will lock eyes and wings for one last flight
And leave behind us harsher worlds than where we go
In curling, quiet streams that,
Blending into one,
Become that mind and heart we always were.

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