Broken Pieces

We were lying on the
Grass under an aged
Oak tree listening to
The oddly shaped
Clouds as they moved
Across the azure
Backdrop of the sky
Above and the
Commotion of the
Late-forming leaves
Of this almost-summer
Season were somehow
Speaking the same
Words you were
Whispering where we would
Be if we ventured ahead
In the path we were
Presently walking
All I could think of as
You came to the end
Of your thoughts, at the
Same time as the breeze,
Dancing through the
Leaves of the aged oak
Tree, died down,
Was how could I not
Keep on with you
Because anything else
Might be considered
Broken pieces.

Originally concept
19 February 2005


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