I looked for a shortcut,
The sun edging
Toward the horizon,
Cold creeping across
The dusk,
Stealthy and serious.
There was none.
Every moment and
Step needed to be measured
And lived,
Folding inside out
Until exhausted
And washed of meaning.
I reached for your hand,
Knowing that traveling
The darkened landscape
Was best,
And perhaps only,
Done in the company
Of kindred souls.
Categories: Poetry