Sunday, November 12, 2006

Round Midnight

After the day, autumn golden, drifts of leaves, watching them tossing in the wind and laying in an alley out of enchanted tale, laying there unraked like magic magenta carpet, overhead a canopy of trees, a small colored flowerbush right next to the chain link fence, a couple summers ago I saw young lovers kissing there, secretly.

After the day, fresh smell of rain, silence broken by occasional automobiles, train rumbling over the Hellgate Bridge, after the day, in the velvet of night, in windblown dreams of expectation, like child not wanting to go to sleep, I cling to the minutes and seconds but they slip away, slip away like drifting autumn leaves.


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