Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Ten Paces to the Window

He paces through her mind all day
Back and forth in steady lines
Much like the paths he wares
Into the stained hardwood floor
When thinking
Or waiting
Or talking on the telephone
Don't pace so, boy
There you'll simply fall
To the floors below
But what would happen
Were you
To fall
Out of
My
Mind?

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