From a distance
I peer into the shrivelled pages of my past
The viscous ink still sodden as it bleeds on to the present,
Fragile papyrus, neatly resting under my fettered fingers,
Cursively writing my fate,
As Providence writes it for me
From a distance
Life is coloured sweetness
Morning air, warm rain, and citrus scents
Plush red, pond lily's, angelic aroma's
Yet to flee our guileless senses
Ephemeral love, felt
From a distance
Hectic, frenetic, tremors of unease
Coarse, maroon, threads of suffering,
Sons of Cain, tangled in limp weaves of pain,
Stitching the last crevices of our hardened hearts
How I long to feel,
Even if from a distance.
2 comments:
It's unfair, I wish I could write like this...Alas don't have the talent...no poetic spirit...not even the vocabulary...
Reading it in a grey day like today swings me back and forth between reality and dreams. Why your poems have the habit of forcing down tears???
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