In the Passing of a Day i can't recall when the winds let go of your hair, and began to die out in alleyways; when my faith became cost and the moon seemed to turn tail. i failed to notice when the pepper swarms of black swallows laid down like ashes. the scenic spots all revealed their feeble lies. and your blue eyes hid in your hollows. and small though it was the effort to touch consumed us. and all day i could not find the opaque sound of shade. Steven Reid |