the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

The Stagger

There is always a hand
To save yours from the cold,
Where the waiving of matters
Has for once found it's node;
Where I pilot this quiet
And two skies explode
Warming with fleece
In a starlight abode.
Drunk on your presence
I lie on my back...
An evening achieved,
A couple steps back.

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