A Dance

To time’s music.

blue and white sky with stars

The wings are wet with oil, and yet.

Still here, we look. This alteration:

how many steps? How bright when

it becomes us, before the lens 

takes its leave. I may have lost

mine already, but I remember.

How we had no use for silences

or speech. Neither was needed

to let the other be.

Author: Stacey C. Johnson

I keep watch and listen, mostly in dark places.

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