Lost

 

Lost as the list that the wind 

Whipped from a hand

And dropped 

in a puddle.


That the author,

In a foreign land,

Holds in their mind,

Repeating and repeating,


Until it becomes a song. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Today, a new day, a film, a song.

Hidden, Eyes protected, Razor sharp brim foreclosing our reach. I Only a n air kiss  for your First Lady. The wind tries to take it.  Anothe...

  • Home is .........
      I t must be Summer 1982, my memory's not great for dates, but I can place it by looking up the facts on Wiki, plus she's wearing s...
  • A discussion between 2 cylinders
    Close your critical eye; Listen and use every other faculty. Disregard the illusion of progress, Of individuality parading in succes...