Twenty-eight Falls

Of all the eyes that stayed within,

hers were the most piercing.

Recollecting memories of an arid autumn night;

reminiscing through the empty 

faces of a crowd of thirteen, she stood 

out. Behind, stood he, the one we all inevitably 

call companion, with his hand upon her shoulder;

finger upon chin; word entrancing ear; breath fogging neck;

unrelenting anguish, unwilling to see her part.

Off, into the distance, into the lens of time,

into his eyes, she stared and stared

again. Seeking salvation in the heart of the meek.

Twenty-eight Falls had seen their rise and fall,

yet never could he shake the eyes

of the despaired, now departed.

The End

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