the last air

the red brick silences
hang heavy, it is a restless old energy.

it has soaked up the heat
of the day,
these last fine warm days.

you are welcome here,
when you come,
we can be together,
we can.

the tomatoes are ripening,
brown and brittle leaves are turning,
the gentler ways of living,
are mine, for this is my time.

when the walking
took us away,
further from home
we felt we do at last belong,
no words,
did i dream
i heard you whistle me?

dusky,

even the logs here are resting,
in neat piles,
in their neat rows,
the last air moves
as the day draws to its close,

and i kiss you on the end of your nose,
and we smiled,
as we remembered the good times.

the last air

uncleblack

Joined February 2010

  • Artwork Comments 2

Artwork Comments

  • Karin Taylor
  • uncleblack
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
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