poems wear no regrets
poems are naked inside
if i could sit like
a stone angel
breathe deeply the gloom that gathers
in caves where swimmers are drawn by ancient hands,
while
desert sands destroy lofty footsteps
and death mocks us, laughing
it is i who rain
what is left of you, what is left of me?
Comments
Dear Anna,
breathe deeply the gloom that gathers
in caves where swimmers are drawn by ancient hands,
while
desert sands destroy lofty footsteps
and death mocks us, laughing
Incredible write!
always, Cat
I like this
It makes one to think about the words and what you are also thinking and saying in the write.
Very good Anna
Blessings
Mona
Those last lines as questions
Those last lines as questions pose the thing for readers to ponder and especially with your author notes there. It has a soft sting to the words here.