Image result for dripping trees in painting

Let it be different.  A wandering walk,
Where the fog is still, holding the hill,
Where there is no wind, and a simple talk
Slips off our tongues in our wandering walk,
A few minutes after a rain has made
A slow and quiet dripping in the shade.

Love is worry—so all we love is marred.
Yes, I’m jealous. The heart that hates, frees.
The world’s effort is to secure and guard.
Millions of files: inspection barred.
Thousands of locks, thousands of jangling keys.
The key to life is many keys.

Quiet talk. A quiet kiss.
I want you. Not that—unlocked for this.
No wind. Your breath on my face.
The dripping trees.


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