Stepping around the corner,
off the curb, into the street of
onrushing traffic, to hold hands with
a specter of loneliness, promising
the morning's sweet dew,
breakfast on the veranda,
for a night of walking dark paths,
imbibing distant thoughts.
A distinct vagueness lingers on her lips,
limbs engulfing, decency snared for
later release. Come wander with me
to find our way back,
we don't have far to go,
just out of sight.
©Eusebeia Philos 2013