Where the Lines Have Fallen

I find you here,
buried inside century-old walls,
layers stacked upon me like pancakes,
where my bare feet can play
the floorboards in double octaves
over the sirens
and alley cats
in the dark early morning.

I find you here,
my body stretched out
across a path of dirt,
where chirps and moos
compete only with whispering pebbles underfoot
and the only boundary
is a layered sky
of orange
and flax
turning to night.

I have pressed my angst
against these walls,
I have chased everything
under the sky
only to find you here,
your presence forming
my limits,
your joy outrunning the horizon.