The Promenade ~ If You Come With Me.

If you come with me
just this once,
if you leave that café
by the Seine,
the thinning air
of tender flesh,
I will bow
low like a thirsty fog
in cupping hands
we'll open our graves
and let time pass away
like a poem
of fallen leaves
opaline
sparks of fire,

two pillows stitched with
our Samurai and Geisha
lives,
smoke-blue feathers
of a double Heron moon,
a scent of orange blossoms

slow....
....easy...
footsteps.