At the edge of the precipice,
Copper leaves in her windblown hair,
Suitcase packed, folded map in hand,
Goodbye trembling on her lips.
If you go now
Will you take me, too?
If I can’t find it,
Will you show me how?
I don’t know yet,
but I think you do,
So, please take me,
When you go.
Engine idling in the morning light,
Breathing steam, his cold feet bare.
All the words have been said before.
Nobody’s wrong, goodbye’s not right.
If you go now
Will you take me, too?
If I can’t find it,
Will you show me how?
I don’t know yet,
but I think you do,
So, please take me,
When you go.
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
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