Forward from: Soon-to-be.
‘A BENCH, A BREATH,
(/&.) TWO CUPS GROWING COLD’
(WE SAT LIKE UNOPENED LETTERS) ‘no haste, nor passage drawn.
the township dimmeth her blaze, as though she reckon’d what tenderness truly be. thy fingers toy’d with the rim of porcelain, lukewarm memories steeped in forgotten steam.
“I ween we art all but wayfarers,
seeking kindreds who shan’t vanish
when the hush turneth burdensome.”
thy gaze wander’d to the cobbled street, where shadows stretched long 'cross the paving stones, like tired thoughts chasing their own silhouettes. a breeze, bashful and brief, stirred the paper napkin 'twixt us—its edge curling as though shy to speak.
(/&.) TWO CUPS GROWING COLD’
(WE SAT LIKE UNOPENED LETTERS) ‘no haste, nor passage drawn.
the township dimmeth her blaze, as though she reckon’d what tenderness truly be. thy fingers toy’d with the rim of porcelain, lukewarm memories steeped in forgotten steam.
“I ween we art all but wayfarers,
seeking kindreds who shan’t vanish
when the hush turneth burdensome.”
thy gaze wander’d to the cobbled street, where shadows stretched long 'cross the paving stones, like tired thoughts chasing their own silhouettes. a breeze, bashful and brief, stirred the paper napkin 'twixt us—its edge curling as though shy to speak.