Key of Sands

WL Schuett

The dry leaves a whisper 

in the cool night air . 

The future lurking 

face to face with the moon .

He drank in her sigh . 

Inhaled . 

This night must last till 

there is no tomorrow. 

No thorns .

No tears . 

 

Feeling a pleasant stir 

darkness  faded and 

slipped into perspective. 

Ocean dancers dream 

the music of the sands . 

The young optimistic 

the old find acceptance,

In dreams that have 

gathered dust . 

 

Spritually bloodied and beaten . 

The morning was chaos

in a minor key .

In the waiting air of 

the storms eye . 

The old growth forest 

waded into the shallows . 

As the wind moaned 

like a salty cello . 

 

The flag of her life 

was set at half mast . 

Following a path 

of fire . 

Of ice . 

 

Listening to to the song 

of the angels. 

Carried on ancient 

winds of sorrow , 

she knew all the secret places 

between right and wrong . 

 

The angels song was 

one of tears . 

That lightly pushed the waves 

over the thorns .

As he ran back 

from the morning. 

Fighting the odds of the elements 

she was as indegenous as the 

roots upheaved from a withered oak . 

A wave of desolate fury 

inside a sea of wrongfulness 

or rightousness . 

This journey is not over .

 

 

 

 

  • Author: WL (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 4th, 2018 19:10
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 55
  • User favorite of this poem: Lorna.
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Comments6

  • Christina8

    A descriptive write I really enjoyed. Nice to hear from you!

  • onepauly

    the journey
    is never over.

  • willyweed

    very nice piece, well done! ww

  • Michael Edwards

    Nice work Bill.

  • Goldfinch60

    Super right WL, glad to hear from you again.

  • Lorna

    Very mystical..... I love the acceptance and that the journey is not over........



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