Slow Wail of Distant Dreams

A thick, full air,
followed by clouds
of endless grey.

Feet stick to slabs,
heavy on the earth,
falling in line,

stretching until
the path ends,
and exhaustion stops

with a drawn sigh.
Now, only the clouds
follow a path,

as they crash to the ground
like sorrow
in a clearing of trees.

The rains falling,
heavy with tears,
and thick with dirt.

Darkness hides between
leaves and the sky,
only to emerge

with my every step,
haunting, desperate,
howls of the night.

Earth clinging to ankles,
pulling at dirty jeans
as they slow, slow,

slow wail of distant dreams.

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