How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart. -William Butler Yeats

T,

Floated on fingers I lift the scents of ages to her nose

On this great walk, the stain of the street is nothing to the sharp stones cut into heels and footprints

I can no longer hide my trail

The hounds close in, the voices linger outside the door

The breeze becomes a whole city, her breath on every block

-L