I feel the autumn breeze
on my heart.
It slows me.
But your spring
is budding
is beckoning to shine.
The world turns.
Lives turn.
Your turn.
shine
Barefoot on gravel I stumbled
The tip of the lost wand poked up through the gravel, as if a sharp star or the shine in your eyes had fallen from soft blackness. I was barefoot. And that was the story that repeated itself again and again.