Damp Soil

There’s a place
At the edge of a clearing
Where the ground is never dry
And you still exist
For me

When the moon would begin to wax
We would sit on silver-capped grass
Conspiring through the night
Of great aspirations
Of us

Here the soil resonates
With echoes
Spoken incantations unfurling that which
We have hidden from ourselves
Here we will be together

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