Paths

 

How many paths without a beating heart did you travel along

is not the sort of question one expects to form a song inside

one's head whilst sleeping soundly 

until alarm bells ring outside me and I have to set this day

into its proper motion

with that notion walking right beside me. 



No comments:

Post a Comment

Unpolished

  The Ocean Throws up a stone, Flattish, nearly round, Found by a child, Who feels it, The rasping nick, It's nearly a heart. Salt water...