I fell asleep with the wind after reading with my son and telling him stories about bank robbers and theives. In tunnels and vaults through ceilings and floors. Faberge’s and photos of once upon a time. It twists on into the night and eases the quiet into the blur of empty blue behind my tired eyes.
Highways, memories and borrowed Neruda dreams beg me to sleep when she closes her eyes. Weddings and rainy days and the melting snow that freezes down the path to the bustop.
her eyes are mine