And when,
that evening near that summer’s end,
on sun-warmed stones, the steps up to your church,
you spoke of larger rooms inside the rooms inside my silence
where ten thousand thoughts still sleep. I keep only the longing. .
And when,
that evening near that summer’s end,
on sun-warmed stones, the steps up to your church,
you spoke of larger rooms inside the rooms inside my silence
where ten thousand thoughts still sleep. I keep only the longing. .