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Mar 4
Had I known your voice would haunt like so many dancing sprites along midsummers plush ridges
I may have said my peace long before you faded over the horizon
Winter was not left with your leaving
Chilled roots perhaps but more late October mysteries I have no answers for
Sending inquiries, soft and translucent
Go unheaded, unwanted, unheard
We were friends once, intertwined with what I thought was a love that had not faltered, just evolved
Months pass with naught left but frosty windows, my face pressed against the glass
Still waiting to see your light weave through the trees towards me once more
Wanderer
Written by
Wanderer  Between Midnight and 3am
(Between Midnight and 3am)   
210
     Brandon and Arianna
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