Like brief water
etches into blacktop
The eight to five
Of river drift
Writes into clay its cadence of thought
Driftwood strays to the swing of Blue
And Osprey cloud Sails
Into sand
Guitar streams tune the horizon
As still lifes' grip these canvas eyes
While breezes think
Among wind chimes
Song and senses
Sift away the edges
of crystal at rest with
a rainbow
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Author:
Chris H (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 1st, 2023 11:47
- Comment from author about the poem: Barstow stands firm and says you are no one unless you stand...stand for something. Work...earnings goals, well....very unclear. But I knew an 8 to 5 and experience would lead me...somewhere!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
Offline)
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