We could sail away
If your boat would reach me
But the mountain shores are dry
And I'm not waiting patiently.
A pressing moment Weighs on the poet To finish her sentence As she currently knows it Urgency quietly calls Through paper-made walls In a form that makes sense Of the daily rises and falls If left unfinished, it never will be For the way life unfolds so quickly.
2 comments:
beautiful. as is the one below... can i link you on my blog sometime?
Thank you, Kate! That would be fantastic.
Post a Comment