March 24/365 I’m Lying, pt. 3

….

rises above a somber plain; March rain
has pooled deep in forgotten furrows,
breaking corn stubble like bleached bones.
Shall I cross this bridge knowing that stone,
weakened by wet and frost, may slide?
She resides beyond my reach, and perhaps
no distance traveled will make a difference.
Desire – not love, not pain – nothing will change.

4 thoughts on “March 24/365 I’m Lying, pt. 3

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