a toast to our sins
the waking light
paints folds in the linen
curtains, intended to keep out the day
but he meanders easily through
asks us to return to life
somewhere between here
and there
is a better reality
one where gentleness
can’t expire
where my hand never leaves yours
my waking thoughts
gather all our choices in the pool
water, there for the birds to bathe
but they drink instead
swallow the past down
one gulp
at a time
a toast to our sins
to our forgiveness
to every fork in every road
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Ben Sea All Rights Reserved