A Brothermine – A Poem

I was up too late
and you had gone
too far.

Talk to me.
Talk to me.
What can I afford to give you
but the white
and the gray walls?

Parched and absolved
I am now a brothermine,
consciously tolerant
of my own delusions.

Yet what if only for that instant
in the spell of the clover
and the honeysuckle,
a fire,
a dance
amid the dreaming bees,
there were no definitive answers?

Not here. Anymore.

The rain comes.
Where will we go?


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