They are branches of water,
Yours,
unstoppably bound to me.
The salty waters of the sea,
They seem to come out of my face,
And the eyes, blue so sure, of sorrow.
By the going thoughts, and the smaller gaps,
They seem to catch deadly shadows,
They open up into the great horizon,
Folded in two, to anchor to your Feet.
Why we waste sugar, was all in Tea?
So, sweet, to bitter, to mellow,
The Edging in the Directions of Trains.
We learned the untold truth,
Of moving carbon into the Industrial Age.
Then bound back, like the vapor and wasted,
Learned why wine stories,
Should not just be firmly Breathings,
Of memento.
