Beneath A Telephone Pole

to follow a stranger
lured into hands
that hold...

infrequently

shallow random breaths
of words uttered
for sudden pause

dispersing thoughts
beneath the light
of a telephone pole

we see the snow
come then go

winter slips into hearts
into blushed rose colored faces
and snow angels beckon
surrendering dawn

as we approach darkened days
absent of rhythm
untieing our tangles

falling back into place
into the hands that have held us
despite our loss of grace