Deep within the stream

A poem I wrote yesterday.

Up the dark mountain,
an image scarred.
A ceaseless weaving
of a fragile soul.

Forktails, singing a lament
somewhere close.
Treading a path,
that waits for breaking.

In this desolate place,
a flock of red lanterns.
Your foolish smile,
in a moment.
As if you were here.

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