Rosy Creek

Watching by a rosy creek

Stitching the words of silence

On the bays banks, a balance

.

They heal

measured, moderate, and steady

Punctually preparing keys

The silent locksmiths,

guardians and gatekeepers

.

Walking with the night

Floating, fluttering, flirting with the light,

Churning, chafing, changing

Chained to the heart

.

By the fire burned and blistered

Dressing and draining

Carrying themselves away, Returning 

Watching, waiting, wishing not to depart

Mending and melding

Gasping, “where to start”

.

Watching by a rosy creek 

A mark in the whiffling wind

A tranquil muse by the reservoir

“Is there anymore?”

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