Rising Hill Road
There’s a road that curves
exactly the same
as the line you see on my palm
It travels along
my arm, like the veins
you can’t see inside my heart
I walk its paths when
I’m asleep, and I
dream its greens when I’m awake
The wild willows weep
as I make my way,
tracing the edges of time
The twilight sky
dances toward dark;
where footsteps make no sound
This road is smooth
and I am young
At the end of it is home
So, I hold my breath
and hope to catch a glimpse
of the far-off waning moon
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