if you can somehow still see the flickering
of the moon over our heads
and the glisten of the dew on the grass
when we frolicked long ago:
i wonder if you can see the stems of leaves
that buried us all in Autumn, the red
that took our feet and made them
crunch all the once-live covers of the trees
i wonder if you perceive the concrete
on which we danced and swooned awkwardly
until the stars told us that time was not ours
right now, i wonder if you at all caught with your eyes
the little pattern in my stanzas:
five;four;three;two;nowone (are your eyes listening?)
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