Parading

wonder if this compass will ever change.

Sooner or later

Better to discourage the future by making no plans.

“Hotel of earth, where we resided for some years together,”

Suppose I say summer,

oh you who are never the same

What of the little phrase? Its notes, like leaves

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries

Who can now tell what was taken, or where,

Built to say at least. Built to reach for the heat