Abira

Do you measure distance, looking down a bottle of beer, as if polishing a crystal, the tenor of your bones, a river washes clear, a time to be explored, the cormorants we saw flippant, flap in a broken weir, last tide before the winter, has my lover frozen, somewhere close to tears, when I say please go, knees and face seek penance, a trapeze of wasted years, eyes crying for an infant, do I record each tone, of his faded artists gear, a presence in each zone, I’ll never appear listless, silver will cup my ears, I shall be effervescent, there will be happy years.