Wednesday, April 30, 2008

A Walk Home, When She Must Be Sleeping

By: K. Jan Harvey

The brown leaves conceal the street
Like hair on a flannel shirt.

The town leaves the cats at night to play,
But I hear the leaves they tantilize
And toy with those thoughts.

The brown leaves smell like she was sleeping
After eating apples;
As the fall follows me home.
Still, there is time for you and I sharing apples
When the cats with hairless eyes
Make footsteps out of caskets
And I pause my walking to let them.

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