Early, in the breast of twilight
peeking, half-closed eyes
of summer,
I walked beside the still
slumbering body
of the silver lake...
ribbons of my skin
tattoos of tree shadows
painted by the wind, pale
flecked and glowing,
footsteps, always
traces in the mind's
muddied path, perhaps
a way in, or
a journey back-
a template of forgotten
faces, lost pennies,
broken toys.
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