At the small end of this deep voice
and some hard spoken words that go right into you as you stand there
trying, to put its shadow away
there is a building dream of the eyes that go making rhymes
of yellow grass of sad sleeping loss
were you there?
I thought I heard you standing
I thought, you tried to hold your breath
I thought,
I thought you went one step into the melting night
while my harp played
thinking you were listening.
