All rights reserved
Grey-scale lines of poetry
The wind stutters
as I recycle my words
on an uphill climb away
from November
love gently breathes…
while spiders crawl
in my precious confused mind
searching for truth between
grey-scale lines of poetry
like random pursuits of time
hollowed by silence
I circle myself, tripping over
rhythm as my core is exposed
to the elements
the ground seems to open up
and swallow me on some level
of unspoken certainty
a symphony in the white of thunder
plays ocean tunes waiting on the
message in a bottle to arrive
the melody rolls with the tides
on a personal journey
impossibly abstract
washed ashore in circumstances beyond control
riding mysteriously low, almost haunting
love gently breathes,
as the wind stutters
on an uphill climb away from November
searching for truth
between grey-scale lines of poetry
~Becky Zoch~3/18/08
Originally Posted On Site: 2008-04-11 11:40:15
Last Login: 05.29.08
Visits as of 12-12-07: 53
