Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Snow Patrol

I'd find a map and draw a straight line,
Over rivers, farms, and state lines.
The distance from 'A' to where you'd B,
It's only finger-lengths that I see.
I touch the place where I'd find your face,
My fingers in creases of distant dark places.

After I have travelled so far,
We'd set the fire to the third bar.
We'd share each other like an island,
Until exhausted, close our eyelids.
And dreaming, pick up from
The last place we left off.
Your soft skin is weeping,
A joy you can't keep in.

And miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold ground,
and I pray that something picks me up
and sets me down in your warm arms!!

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M is for Margaret, who was swept out to sea...