Tuesday, July 14, 2009

In Version

The light gets brighter
so we burn longer.
The notes strike deeper
and we play a thousand songs.


A different relationship to gravity
means your heart is in another place.


After dark
all the stars in the sky
are notes of a music box.
Wind up bird songs.
Star-plucked progressions
suggesting this could be never ending.


So when we say good-bye
I'll reply with a sigh.

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