The Road Home

The road winds

molding to the curves of the land

like dark ruffles on a lover's favorite dress

 

The hills embrace the rocks

hard against their gently draping

skirt of yellowed grass

 

As the sun sets

the orchid clouds stretch tight across the sky

ready to burst at any moment

 

A lone tree reaches upward

toward the shattering stars

and rising moon

 

The windmills turn

winding back the hours

pulling you closer to me

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