Stella

 

I can feel this slight pour
Of rain
Outside
Like
Its touch on the grass
Its damp kiss on the earth
Its rising 
from the cross 
Our 
Vox,
Et
Praeterea nihil
That holds the silence
Of our even breaths
in the vacancy
Of air
In the coarsing light
The stellar,

My Celeste,

understanding
underneath you,
Is sadness,
In its quaint tone
There is always something 
To seek 
If 
If only the sky can be true.


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