the first attempt

with mud between our toes

we laughed and ran;

the meanwhile was the only while

we could understand —

and days stretched into lakes

stretched into bodies

knowing something of each other:

as mud trailed into darkened rooms,

and thoughts turned into lakes

and hands to clouds

and shallow breaths we tried

to smother

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure. View all posts by Beleaguered Servant