Leather sandals sang softly to the covered path. Small twigs breaking like brittle bones under the fall blanket.
Slowly stepping away the wonder years of what if..
Just around the bend
an unseen wing spreads in anticipation.
Nearing the womb of the crossroads
darkened by fallen clouds and green shadows,
Rhythmic breeze sends enchanting invitation.
Accepting eyes engage an ancient awe
accelerating, in slow
motion.
Animated extinction, alone as
I
on display, guided by instinct.
Crystal blue winds breathed upon time
cooling its tick until
I
was frozen.
Impossible 15 foot or so featherless wingspan, wading in the air,
burning a page into memory pathways, like a documentary of history being interrupted by
Breaking news...
-
Author:
Seven (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 9th, 2017 17:44
- Comment from author about the poem: Alone on a fishing trip. I know what it was not, but not what it was.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments4
What a way with words! Well done, I greatly enjoyed reading this one.
Great 1!
Using your style of excellence as motivation.
👍👌🙌
👍🏽
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