Lykren
10-22-2014, 12:00 AM
Her ideas curling over the edge
of her face like the sun a broom
of soft bristles, they mirror
the water a mirror, heavier than
the damp middle of the sand
of the thoughtless narrows.
Lucky to be judged lightly
she slips down the night hall
and further on into the future,
good dreams guiding. What she
approaches lives alone like
anyone else, beside these
meetings, how will I name them,
at the edge of death life
a split star
Thank you for reading.
of her face like the sun a broom
of soft bristles, they mirror
the water a mirror, heavier than
the damp middle of the sand
of the thoughtless narrows.
Lucky to be judged lightly
she slips down the night hall
and further on into the future,
good dreams guiding. What she
approaches lives alone like
anyone else, beside these
meetings, how will I name them,
at the edge of death life
a split star
Thank you for reading.