The Intricate Arc of Echos
Quite dispersions.
Peaceful allegorical dispensations.
Certain tactful dispositions.
A spectrum of disquietude.
Allegorical gravity.
The solitary wishful descents of freefall.
Long awaited acclamations of flight.
On and on, this merciful rainbow in concerts’ dawn.
A gentle dream quietly placed.
Double-fisted handfuls of sand so carefully poured into
a seven minute glass of a hour.
I love you daughter.
You are my nucleus.
I imagine your hand in mine amid our bleachers of driftwood.
Watching the Sun sleep.
With a labyrinth of meaning.
Long distance adequate flight lines of flight.
It was shot at from a distance and aimed at from a birth.
Tagged reassurance and some things that should have been left undisturbed.
Winter sets near the lazy orange of autumn.
Streaked by a sky clear clouded.
Marked by a smile of my one and only child.
Listening to the riddle of an hour glass of an hour.
Intricate arrows of echo.
They pervade the thick patterns of thunder.
With well know secrets that harbor.
Waiting for remembrance soft hum.
I dreamt of you the night you passed.
It was a cold and grey marathon of a month.
There I chanced an arced echo of memory.
There I found myself lost in a cry.
Sounding, to most, like laughter embracing this dream.
A simple hope that you wouldn’t have left that winter of windswept clouds.
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