, ; .

walking down a path littered with leaves, hands touching, laughter lilting,
the breeze lifts your hair above your eye and clears the ground ahead;
i see in you a kind of dream-of-a-thing, and let go of what i was before seeing.

familiar spaces in my rooms become yours,
a speckling-together of colors to make one brand new;
you anchor in me, our roots spreading down.

but sweaters pull, yarn dangling at seems and on collars,
shapes shifting, it is still comfortable to draw you close;
warmth in familiarity amidst small, biting pockets of cold sky.

we walk toward nowhere, disconnecting and untangling in static air,
looking in your eyes, i see revealed a space and clearer colors;
your anchor lifts. i stand rooted on the shore.


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