We were there long ago, the summer the world
burned under our feet, everything hanging still
the way the sunlight froze when you walked
through those doors and smiled, the evening
air falling in large chunks to the ground.
Someone is repeatedly turning the lights
on and off. Smoke comes through the door. It is
1910 and someone is playing the violin and we
waltz through an eternity of memory, things
I set in stone and arrange on a mantelpiece.
Long ago the grass was green and rivers ran
around us and we laughed. Those were simple
times, those days we set the world aflame.
You flow through me the way music
filled that church, us listening, hearts on fire.


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