The road bends.
It is a bow aching
to cast us away
as we move
through its silence.
We shed our footprints
with the thaw.
Your arms form ribs
around me;
they keep me.
You speak of safety,
of home.
The road bends.
It is a bow aching
to cast us away
as we move
through its silence.
We shed our footprints
with the thaw.
Your arms form ribs
around me;
they keep me.
You speak of safety,
of home.