yesterday’s hungry smiles
carry divine ripened comfort
perfect lines—always—perfect
where those familiar sounds
merely whisper

draw locks onto memories
embrace soft autumn-worn help
racing then beside bruise-sore dawns
seen in everlasting looking-glasses
a chance to cry

the same daydreams pass
and sleepy overlooked hearts
ebb among overly scabrous breezes
borrowed labors lost
bitterly calling

unlit golden trees
rent, fallen away from warmth
shaped by these crimson hungers
lifting our fine new hearts
and rising desires