aosid's Diaryland Diary

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it's the season
of the hint of fires on the horizon
the hint of fires on the leaves
the hint of fires forgotten since the last thaw
sputtering back alive in our chests
to answer our need anew

and it's a broken spell
it's a phantom limb
it's the moment our eyes dare to look up
find their focus on the sharp september lines
finally adjust to the deepening blues above
it's the secret remembering in our fingers
that they will soon ache with frost
soon want for partners to save them
it's the first biting opaque breaths
that remind us that the world spins on
while the past is covered in rime and rust

but really it's that quiet van gogh smile
it's that deceptive incisive drawled wit
it's the mystery of how it would feel
to run your fingers
through that raven hair

6:15 a.m. - 2013-09-03

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