Cold stone phone woke again.
Courting song sung in tones.
Cold ride froze my toes.
Sorting words to keep sane.
–
Hasty call, “Damn it all”
I dive into the sound.
That old stroke coming round.
Spotting shrouds around.
–
Quarter hour of self defeat.
Crane bones. Lift to sky.
Stars pull ropes of mine.
(My weight while I why)
–
There’s tunnels buried under me.
Sloping sly, a gentle mile.
Melting down a fading smile.
Home again upon the tile.
acraein 
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