I crave stories

faintly on the edge of stories
that tumble about in our minds
alive with possibilities
shooing away the plain footsteps
of again and again. Stories
on the fringe of songs that lie low
chanting peacefully to themselves,
invisible loves caressing
in time with our living. Stories
gold tinged, shy and beautiful
that seep into the crevices
of everyday life, like evening’s
warm glow before the lights come on.


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