Sunday, February 24, 2013


There was
             something disparate of design in that journey.  The desire hung like holly at Christmas, calling.  I hunkered
                                              down till the
counterfeit heat
       tempted growth but it was never right.
                            Honestly, didn't we try?  And the water, falser, there, less
                                   satiating somehow.

Deprived of bare air, tears held and you hunted,
                                           keen.  How
it, I

lessened here?  I dressed warmly for you,  hinted a glow and
                                           asked, finally for

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