She
Bound by nothing that is common
To the ragged soul of man,
Nothing that causes the insistent pulse to quicken
Or the measured step to slow,
Her eyes divert attention from the evening's afterglow
And lead us toward the chambers of the sea.
Waking the dead with frozen hands
She ventures forth but once a year
To tease the mind and tempt the ear
With stories of the spring.
Copyright © 1997-2018 by Benjamin Toney. All rights reserved.
Image credit: The old grey teacher | Photography by Zena Holloway | United Kingdom
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.
