Words that struggle for breath

The welcome home stretches
like the distances of romance,
carried around the soft touch
of a gentle neck.

From the boulevards I have brought
my broad open, wrapped in a scarf,
rattling with the words that
struggle for breath.

Peaking hills, now far behind,
are mere candles in the wind.
Darkened skies burst with lights
from trembling dreams.

If home and heart do so mix,
then the wayfarer finds his
in a smile, kept carefully
in a pocket by the breast.

A stretching beauty with
the distances of romance.


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