The words spoken
were like threads
thinning at the elbow,
deep thoughts from a
cold heart with warm hands
a story of the
distant from here
about adding to
the next step
after the last one
taken
speaking darkly
about alleys cutting
between
buildings of
memories
and voices at the
clothesline
or the end
without a sky
or clouds
fortunately
dusk holds soft
the place before night
as stars listen
to wishes and prayers
Roger Singer 