Below the green stained glass
of malformed tree tops.
Astride genuine remorse
and sour reminiscences.
Between the barking of my torn
laces (stepped on
for the last time).
Between rays of sunshine,
tilting with the fury of traveling
80 million miles and, only now
arriving, to no praise,
your steps flare upon each
paved stone before us.
Your words run round
my tottering, cat tempered, muse
with sure hands
just as your hair
subdues the sun's lance
and I, spittle lipped,
take a breath and another
in the space you left
on the fractured concrete path beside you.
original works of parts
