Wednesday 1/21/2015 12:34:00 AM

severed strands manifest. circumstance as obstuse as the angle are.

the particles. the essense of when. time's hurtful chorus. repeating.

the cold is a beautiful entity. more human than any of us. a hungry child. a stern parent. a scab on the knee. a kiss on the lips.

the winter is a poet. more prolific than any man or woman. a millenia of verses. each one eclipsing the next.

i don't know what love is. i've only used words to imagine it.

i've glimpsed its colors. i've even heard its voice.

it's random. it's dots on dice.

it's the collateral of a sin. it's the debt are all born with.

it's the sweet of a bridge. the sour of distance.

JoeC said...

These pictures you paint with your words, like an artist's brush strokes meandering across a page, streaming down a river of words,into the rapids, over the falls, ring true with me. This talisman, dipped in ochre and sweet honey, bridging the gap o'er distant time and experience, beyond the sour that love has eclipsed. Gratefully read and enjoyed!

softermaniac said...

and i am just as grateful to you for taking the time to read.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2018. All Rights Reserved.