Remember, the greenness of the leafs,
sand so thin around our trees. Nobody.
Nobody sang but our feet dipped
into the blueness of the river of love.

Naked, bare feet covering over the dust
of the veins. The entire river covered.
We ran. The sky, mouth open,
swallowing the wholeness of our water.

Visions of a soul in our sky's womb,
the vacuum between your arms, void.
Every morning consumed by the immobile
sun, couldn’t draw your name, the night sky
of the lost poet, on a blank piece of paper.

Love.

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