Breathe
With the brush of a hand
Masked in reflection,
In whose eyes it will never bear.
Pale winds blown,
So much longing,
Locked between the green and blue.
Up the stream,
Leaves and train departing.
Such a narrow incline.
Bystanders crawl,
Loose and wild
I want the day.
Somehow I forgot to tell you,
By the arches hallucinatory night.
Years might be lost,
It might be broken,
The first lie
Out of sight.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
