of dust transcended by
winds traversing through poignant canyons
as tidbits have been telegraphed to a wayward star.
Forgotten is your flowing hair
like the distant sunset to the West.
Faint laughter, arguments
cloaked in naive
Years asleep, I revisited our familiar meeting place.
Bright light was slowly overcome by
I heard again,
the echoes from the belltower.
written sometime in 1977