the howling tunnel
of reminiscing shafts
sunlight beaming,
swirling on the cracked
brittle bits of aged brick
weigh into the soft soil
and slimy with moss,
glistening with dew
as the butterflies stutter
at the edge of each petal,
remembering the echo
of another duo swoon
rippling music and
cascading laughter,
bouncing in the spaces
between the pebbles,
slipping in between
the ruffling book pages,
a quiet abode littered
with graphite and ink,
another place for
a howling mind
to breathe