being brown

Lamenting Ritual

A cottage made of wood,

Two- storied,

With garage and

Vintage car complete

Where footsteps

Make hollow noises

And love- making sends

The floor- boards creaking.

Where I can carve my name,

With hammer and chisel,

In to the dark circles,

That tell the age of a tree

And yours too,

Just next to mine,

In clear, bold gothic

Encircled by time.

No diamond ring.

No yellow thread.

This will do instead.

Damn ritual!

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