arleywriter

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Poems

Little White Boots

Posted by arley sanchez on February 3, 2011 at 2:11 PM

 

Ten years after you packed up

and moved away,

they say you've found

the floor again,

your feet kicking up

in little white boots,

found your rhythm,

found your rhyme.

 

So long ago, yet your scent still

lingers like incense,

your eyes once so adoring

frost on a sultry summer night,

captured lies

chased in circles

flame and flicker,

then go dark.

 

I remember summer nights

 stoked  by a full moon and a fast car,

riding roughshod

like unbridled ponies,

our hearts silvery

moonlight on a mountain lake,

telling secrets

 breathlessly told, unbound

and flung loose to the wind.

 

We are our memories, we dream

under tender moons

pooling in mirrors.

Memories escape like ashes

 from a fire,

 

until today when I heard the music,

and I paused at the rim

of the last blue mountain,

at the edge of a deep blue world,

and I wandered

toward the sound.

 

So many years after you packed up

 and moved away,

they tell me

you've found the floor again,

your feet kicking up

 in little white boots,

found your rhythm,

 found your rhyme.

 

 

 

 

 

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