Walking Lonely Miles

Strait away paths hedges prick leaving steps behind I count. Level flat stones catch wind of your preferred years. Afternoon can pause moments hold on time to a stagnant day. Weather folds clouds daisies bring unwanted sniffles breeze. Breath caught shoulders bowed honored days lost in the dawn. Befuddled temples Salmon grey something about strange words. Whispers hauntingly wrap lost in ground ageing hands gold sword. Books white bound bloody pictures dust the pages silver press prints. Knowing not halls of strange stone mounting faces stitched together. Miles of walking strangers together.