July 3, 2008 – Journal

July 3, 2008 – Journal
On a train from Washington DC to New York

The walls in my memory are leaking, kisses older than a century are finding their way back to my eyes and the quarter moon is falling off the sky
Gliding on the tracks of an old ship we move without thinking, waiting to transpire, misting through time, it’s enough just to swallow and your eyes though I may never look into them again are forever burned into the pathways of my grandmother’s memory.
My heart chimes for steel, wooden panels house the umbrellas of love I could feel for you but choose not to because it’s better to love myself, better to wait for someone who can hold my hand under all colors of a cloud and not look to the ocean for love.