Last Thought

Last Thought

We are my last thought.
In the interim sharing much
of whatever now should mean.

The opposite of regret, a rock
on a tomb, sealing nothing.
Heels kicking sand to a sky.

Wings on the thermal. Leaves
drinking sunlight. Clouds ready.
Canyons in a yawn, thirsty.

Everything, forever pointing in
icicles, late in the year. Saying
one will think this, for two.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010