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Nov 8
The dirt still knows you and me as it squirms under our toes, and the old bells up the steeple of the forgotten chapels resting behind the hills sing tarnished songs of friends we loved and lost.

Ancient rivers, our hide away, under our confidante, the shifting sky, our secrets lingering there still with faithful boulders that cushioned us.  

We were arms that cradled each other while we set to walk on a wire stretching from our innocence to our dreams against the gusting wind and blowing doubt.

At times we made it and saw storms retreat and run for cover, and other times we smile bruised and wounded grateful for the lessons we have learned.

Down by the river, where the world is hushed, and shadows draw sharp breaths and bite down ******* us with their gaze, you'll find me nailed to time awaiting your return before the dusk descends, I pray.

Make haste, find your way back to the place we’ve seen eternity, and where tomorrow talks to us. Our refuge where promises hang their eyes on us and spread their arms wide. There, we are orphans with no yesterdays. There where our hearts cut through tears. With our hands out we could
dream without end.

If you don’t find us there, friends lost in me, if yours knees still could, feel the wind, it’s still dappled with memories.
Erwinism
Written by
Erwinism
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