Whispers

The rubbing of clock hands against time, pulling forward the hour that is no longer available
Hard hitting echoes that mimick footsteps among fearful ears in the dark.
These leaves change color in a silent burst of excitment, anticipating the fellowship of the cornea and light. Dragging forth the bark of dark clouds upon pastel sunsets. Changing the dimly lit comfort of our day into a turbulent night.
Holding onto the chatter of breath through thinly parted lips, etching upon dancing veiled elements in the space between it all. A climatic, passionate, history…written in skin. 
Jdj 2015

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