Papa1
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Oct 16, 2008
- Messages
- 467
scattered
empty
open the study to the wind
and the leaves
blow in
like pages saying nothing
and everything
and a few hands clutch
at them
are they leaves
are they skin
are they birds on the sill come in
eyes
and silence
feet
and shelves
and birdsong piercing
and the wind
blowing evermore
the pockets
whose old promises billow out into the air
their memories
dry and cracking
flakes of
long cherished matter
take wing
like dust
and from it all
the tune
of an old and open room
and the wide
and empty
wind
I like the image in this, a wind coming into a study/library and scattering pages (and hands feebly trying to grab them). Also a metaphor for sandcastles disappearing quickly.
empty
open the study to the wind
and the leaves
blow in
like pages saying nothing
and everything
and a few hands clutch
at them
are they leaves
are they skin
are they birds on the sill come in
eyes
and silence
feet
and shelves
and birdsong piercing
and the wind
blowing evermore
the pockets
whose old promises billow out into the air
their memories
dry and cracking
flakes of
long cherished matter
take wing
like dust
and from it all
the tune
of an old and open room
and the wide
and empty
wind
I like the image in this, a wind coming into a study/library and scattering pages (and hands feebly trying to grab them). Also a metaphor for sandcastles disappearing quickly.
