Posted on August 29th, 2013
This is memory, or this is dreams, or this is a memory of dreams. I sit, a darkly yearning thing, waiting for you,to cross the bridge,from where you come, to where you go. You are lithe and fair and solitary,the keeper of my hope. Feel my heart like music carried on the wind.Run to me trailing sunlight.Leap, a backwards child, into this forest womb. I sit, a darkly yearning thing, waitingto catch you in my arms. ***** Photo by Sandra Peterson Ramirez. Text by td Whittle.