What had been wrong with me?
Granite stone with names from different turns.
Could he have been just a tabloid mystery?
So many questions…under a rustic line of pine trees.
Roads winding in and around crevices amassed from weather, oh so turbulent.
Had the journey into deep, gathering country been wrong.
Could he have been just a teacher…giving lessons in distaste.
Offering long, forbidding ways in which love can go to waste.
Year upon rural year…the distance fought never remains.
Climate change offered no manner in which to stay the same.
