In the old books of shadows, where
ink danced with dust motes.
There lay stories of lonesome stars,
wandering through gentle seas.
"What did you seek beyond the light?"
I asked the amber whispers
of a creaky attic.
A wind sighed softly, waved like a hand,
fluttering bright pages,
laughing like a child, lost in thoughts.
Time spun in circles,
a cool, empty spiral like the
abridged stories we never finished.
In our backyard
laid an invisible sea caused only
by the shapes of clouds -
broad sails of forgotten ships.
Do you remember the echoes in
those breaths of rain?