Horizon’s Delicate Edge

Morning rose with empty bed
and a chill beyond the window.

Birds sang to the distance,
their echoes of yearning love.

The world spilled out to the horizon,
white hills, and sparkling jewels.

Reaching out, my fingers twist
with the curves no longer there.

Forgetting is the longest dream
that swims through endless days.

Sky’s face turns to the ground,
caressed by tearful clouds.

Sometimes she loved me,
as we walked an unsteady path.

And I loved her too. How
could one resist those pearlescent lines?

Now she is forever beyond
the horizon’s delicate edge,

and I, like a dying tree,
cling to the hilltops and look,

hopelessly searching for the past
as my leaves change and fall.


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