*for brownin'*
i forget sometimes
that just because the breeze that carries your laugh
softens with time doesn't mean
it won't return
i keep myself from chasing down
fading fingers of sunset
as they fall behind trees
and into the lockboxes of memory
because i miss the softness of your fists
and in all of this
i have become a sentimental scientist
knowing there is no formula
that can make days run into each other
but knowing you
makes me begin to compose one
with cinnamon and gold leaf
upon my hands.
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