City behind, hills ahead,
road beneath our feet
In between blue
wrapped in black metal
tan leather
the grind of gears
Our songs go up,
together,
both of us singing like
we've never been--
like this is
the only us to ever grace
this (moment) universe
It ends.
Before the next song springs
I have time to think
if there is heaven, let it be this.
_
Ellyn Grothem is a poet who lives in Minneapolis, writing in any form about whatever holds still long enough to be observed.
road beneath our feet
In between blue
wrapped in black metal
tan leather
the grind of gears
Our songs go up,
together,
both of us singing like
we've never been--
like this is
the only us to ever grace
this (moment) universe
It ends.
Before the next song springs
I have time to think
if there is heaven, let it be this.
_
Ellyn Grothem is a poet who lives in Minneapolis, writing in any form about whatever holds still long enough to be observed.
