Saturated In Solitude
SATURATED IN SOLITUDE
The sweat and toil of snowflakes fall like great big oaks.
Silent when no one’s around to hear, but I hear them call.
I sweep the bounty flakes with the soul of my boot. Folks
absent from this flight of serenity, solitude of downy strokes.
The tip of my tongue cleansed. Soap petals after the brawl.
Shivering satisfaction, saturation of snow queen’s court.
My hair ribboned in whitest white of purity and regal right.
Eyelashes gather wisdom’s chill, woolen hands wield forte
of legible knowledge. My sacred head cauterized in port.*
Saturated in solitude, my bruises and scars see the light.
4/16/2018
Laura Loo’s Rhyme Time 2
Fictional account
*port - sweet wine
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