White moon

skims the leaves

 

lonely in a migrant

sky.

 

August chimes to

harvest sigh

 

& I have lost you

in my dreams.

 

You left me here

without a sound

 

slipping into

silent sleep

 

the sleep I never

can undo.

 

How many moons

have waxed & waned?

 

How many Autumns

shed their leaves?

 

A faded photo

random genes

 

& memory

is all that’s left

 

of you.

 

A matchstick on

a moving shore

 

a random grasp at

‘’might have been’’

 

I’m rwinding spools

of  empty dream

 

to find the beach

that we once knew.