I whisper your name (ayradyss) wrote,
I whisper your name

Open season on interpretations: autumn coming

You were me, 
cinnamon tumbles
			crescent delights
	 moonday sunday anyday any time
					you had words.

They are the yesterday whispers
		dreams found and buried
				uncovered and recalled
	piled in sandboxes
	 		leaves blown away
	 	caught and crumbled, dust.

And sometimes you
		in the borderline maybe
			will be
	can be me.

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