A lifetime with a classic pain, 
does not give me peace or freedom. 
Blind ideas scream, 
breaking the antique silence. 
Becoming was not, 
the ending of desire, 
or senile decay of lips. 

You were destroyed, 
by your weird dreams. 
Silver spoon, 
seldom became the bread of poor. 
Sweated and smashed, 
I picked up green 
sprigs of sorrow. 
It was a gift of sun and water. 

Waiting for my turn 
to catch the sunset 
and the new moon together. 
I wanted a life as a leaf, 
drifting out on the hill, 
touching the stillness of the thing, 
the emptiness.

Views: 3

Comment

You need to be a member of MoonTownCafe.com to add comments!

Join MoonTownCafe.com

© 2017   Created by MoonTownCafe.com.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service