THE NOTHING ZONE

 

 

 

 

A twist of air boldly pushes past

August light; a song of different color;

the end of summer.

 

Night air signals the aroma of change.

Cooler breezes mark time like a parade

turning a corner.

 

No wall of wishes prevents the rolling

pattern weaving around me;

I am a patchwork of sadness.

 

Sand and waves stand alone in winter,

absent of voices; time absorbs everything.

 

The nothing zone is the space

between summers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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