Time is slipping from
my hands, such that...

We carve curved lines in the sand with
dead twigs of a sycamore...

Maybe I was the ocean, come crashing in,
and you were the stream, undisturbed on a quiet...

It was a decade ago at the bay of youth.
We ventured to salty waters on stony shores...

I stayed awake to see the first sun rise without...
how else would I be sure another day existed...

My thoughts of you are red.
Not the flare of passion or tender hues of...

I was a disfigured fox,
disappearing into a fog of dead wood and winter...

At night, I drift among stars in an ether that is...
Cobbled stairs twist before me in this strange...

You walked too close to the fire, orange boy,
but I loved the smell of smoke on your warm fur...

The exasperated sigh of a father is not like other...
His disappointment hits me like a jo...

She carries with her oceans;
salty waves that when left alone...

I told them if I lose him too, I will die
Because these are the threads that bind me whole...