A fading; remorse

She walked away through
the hills of clay
while I stood in dismay and cold wonder

The dew was a treaty
in the moment, so fleeting
and the sobs were snored and bleated

She was a soul with
a palm on the world
and a rhythm matched only by fire

In a staunch morning breeze
I fell to my knees
and triggered a twofold, wet coda.

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