Riptide wind

whips house


hurling tiles

like ammunition.


I wake from

dream of you;


voice in my head,

sweet, lilting.


They say the

voice is mirror


of the soul


& yours

& mine




honey twisted



across the space

between us.


Our melody’s

the same


earth tone

rise & fall


beneath the



of this sky

so wild tonight,


as we are.


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