Can we meet
in that stretch between trees
and fields of wheat and wildflowers?
Where ghosts dance by the moon’s ascension,
and shadows play across the humped hills.
Where lights glide along
the sun’s path,
and voices dissolve, and music abides.
Can we meet here,
touch here,
where no one can see us
when the pearly shell of the moon closes
and we are just two living souls
in a world of racing shadows.
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