Peach

. . .
sweeter than a peach
drunken speech
why would we weather a winter walk
on the beach
before each day ends we could talk
clamoring words slipping away in the waves and the wind
or
we could not
allowing space
and time
to breathe
...
rushing is a sound I like to hear but
not a speed, I like to go
instead
I want you to know
If you see me
And say nothing
I'll still listen.
(written 12/17/17)
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