613.

I want to roll up
inside that book and let its
words seep into me.

612.

Sometimes I wonder
if the anchors of our past
will ever release.

611.

Never will it be
for me to understand, how
of all the ones who

love (people, hearts, and
things), there is not a one found
who does it like me.

610.

You were the short rhymed
impetus from which words be-
-came such a deep love.

609.

Here, yet another
anniversary creeps for-
-ward on shifting feet.

608.

And the reach of a
seduction could rip apart
the closest of ties.

607.

But what sense does the
heart have when lost in the haze
of a buoyant hope?