Cool to the touch, we are still,
inviting the ghosts of our failures.

Tranquil and sturdy, we reach for our coats.

A walk is not a walk when we are with another;
it is a union, and should we exchange words,
that is a gift.

You and I walk, day after day, night and night.
We do this for necessity as much as for life.

The July is weakened by the current age.
Yet the heat, the hoverflies, and moon
are unsullied by human debate.

That is the reason we go out,
carrying our dashed hopes and dreams.

We go to the ocean, smell her salt.
Toss our empty promises into her rolling bosom.
Make the most of our dead wishes. We cast our eyes
towards where the sun will rise.

When the light breaks, we know
our mistakes are not gone.

But brightness alleviates most pains,
if only for awhile; however,
how good it is to see
that some body is still ascending.

Our coats get dappled with gold.
With cracked faces we smile.