simonhlilly

These sands,
This dust,
All the past done and gone
On a slow, dark wave,
Back and to.

Along the violet sky,
Along the pale horizon
A certain harsh velvet,
A certain spiral flight,
An old song not quite forgot.

A whisper of dry palms
On a warm wind,
A careful careless gesture,
A lowered eye
A line of footprints
Heading east.

From sea to sand to the shore
Of slow waves,
A stuttered dancing light,
A murmur of cautious buds,
A delicate dessication,
A sublimation of birdsong
To a certain fatal silence.