Whistle


to divide

a pitch, 

alight

it is like a feather

a cross of a bridge

the parting of clouds

meant, 

not be understood

and strained 

to the bottomless pit of our voices

an end of what is a dance

a close to a tune 

a peace 

a truce

the dusk

it is a mindless intruder

gentle, as you are.


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