Tuesday, December 20, 2011

At A Glance

In my dreams
all I see are glimpses of you
through the parting grass

Your scent carried softly
like a sad memory
to my receptors

I run after you
“Chase me” you call
teasing, laughing, hiding

But I can never run fast enough
held back by weeds
that trap your fading voice

And unto the clearing
I finally see you standing
back turned, face to the sun

Breathless I run to you
and wake up to realize
I have forgotten your face

© Antonio Beardall

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