Ground Clouds
Mist between the pavement cracks,
fog patches sew the sky loosely together.
Walking, talking to my self like a crazy person;
it's words that do this
words as thin as a damp haze
words that float in a thought maze.
Back home
I will wring out the sponge in my head,
say something to the deaf walls,
listen for echoes.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment