On The Porch With Pound
By craig2
Evening breezes forever quench the parched pain of a labor’s day, waves of soft moon-dyed mist break purple on the rail, the bubbles crest, exploding in silence. Caress the salt-stained stigmata, open the weeping pores to the tranquility of a long forgotten alien race - transcend the swimmer of a summer’s night who is drowned by the dawn of registered time, drink this froth of fog with me, toast the dew of Ezra’s brow.This is being published in January's "Rainbow's Edge". Written August 24th, 2001 © on Feb 03 2002 02:33 PM PST 18 • 0 • 10
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"Evening breezes forever ..."