Holi-Dazed Poetic Musings

Poetic musings in the post holi-daze Living downstairs from the centipede one dreads the hours of waiting for the “other” shoe to drop. the bottom half of the moon smiled grinning through the haze of dawn soft glow casting soft shadows across the glistening hoarfrost sitting outside the homes they once filled with joy green brittle branches crack under the weight of failed promise wild spinning whirr of life’s impatience shatters the silence of snow’s quilt tosses the ice chips of “reality” atop the warmth of hidden dreams. “of what use are gloves to fingers that comprehend only mittens”. In response to the question: “How many ways up the mountain?” Religions exert the inane belief there is only one way up the mountain. Opportunity no longer knocks. It can, however, be downloaded. John G. Lawless