A surging flow of which we know
that pitter patting pace,
the every step misguided swept
the wind against our face.
Shallow holes reversing roles
to beaten paths for blazing,
unlike sheep to shepherd go
content us cattle grazing.
Cosmic dust to settle not
as swifter waters rise in raging,
all the while with sorrowed smile
and faces that are aging.
Passersby through moving sky
of blues and blacks and grays,
til off it goes that surging flow
and slows our pittered pace.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I always loved your poetry... its nice to know i can read it anytime... it might just pick me up one day when i need it :)
Post a Comment