//mypoeticside.com/

Dovestoneboy

Shoes in the stream

I can be glad of the stream

channeling water across my shoes, 

As glad as an ocean kissed to 

warmth by the sun. 

 

In the far distant hills

feathers fall from birds

wing-tipped then spiralling

limp and desolate to the earth. 

 

Waiting, in slow soft increments

I will be washed away ,dispersed 

then pooled. Like everything 

you touch,transient.