The Time Chain

“Between two Breaths,” you said . . .

smell Spring,

bee sound,

gentle breeze through headstones

barefoot running in grass,

jumping markers.

At last stretched out,

fingers gliding down pollen covered noses,

“Between two Breaths, you said, now is Freedom.”

Kissing,

compensates thirst.

itchy blanket,

wool n laughter.

Time crept up

enfettered us.

“Between two Breaths, you said, now is Freedom.”

Through pane,

dirty glass

grey clouds,

obscured gate twelve.

Couldn’t I have stayed.

The woman next to me

cried from Frankfurt to Fort Worth.

“Between two Breaths, you said, now is Freedom.”

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