Wednesday, July 18, 2007
There are so many things
Lay them at your feet. All the wares, small worries. Hum-drum piled upon. Odd objects; Sort and Thrown. Hit your toes, Upon the steps. Clatter down. Rest, slowly spin. Teetering and edge worn. But you don’t mind them. You ask, am I happy. Lonely sighs, Finds some occupations. Reflections, ripples, The molecules of her hands. Vibrations. The rotation of time. You. Causes contentment. Momentary still and quiet. Beyond brow furrowed. Shoulder tensed sensations. Beyond mouth curled glee. Breaking moments to collect more apprehensions. For rain, for cracked earth to mend. Concerns. Notebooks. Compendiums of. Floods. One after another. An infinite number progress. Upon my fingers, hairs upon my head. Slumped, sleeping. Waiting. Patiently watching. Till tomorrow.
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3 comments:
prose poem? could be. me like.
And the lilies of the valley bloom without care at all.
There is never enough time.
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