I’m in love with your
interrupted thoughts,
trails lost and forgotten.
I walk with you to their ends—

When you blow off the gathered dust,
the sunlight catches it
gently in trembling hands;

glistening listless moments, suspended,
lingering in your breath
like I first did at your door.

The western sky spells your name,
but nomad memories pick up tents,
faces turn to sand.

You haven’t changed at all...
My fingers walk the deepening trails
in your sunset hands.