tonight time's wings fold.
you have taken the wind eastward
      to the mountains
and my bed is still and wide.

at this time of night only the alone sit up.
my hand writes words to hold the spaces
      you left,
but listen:
I can't seem to get the dimensions right;

no words can fill the distance of your voice.

© 1971, 1996 Leslye Layne Russell

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