Every moment | lasting a minute
was my mouth dry as the cracks muddling,
zig-zag over the barren decay of dusty matter
that used to be solid-rock foundation;

Starving | for the moisture-collecting,
of the long grasses’ dew,
moving from the assembly
of patient coats-of-lambs

Over the faint hue
of tears rushing down.

02/22/2014

Posted on 02/22/2014
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