Something

is blocking my internal view,
sitting at this
            clearglass kitchen table,
under colored lights
waning
after Christmas'
                wake flooding past
as the froth
                 of the morning dew doth
burn off
                   with the Sun's first rays...
 
Rain echoes drop off
                     sounding silences,
bounding and tapping off each other's 
                                            energy,
 
falling
       with
           gravity
                 till
                    the end
                       becomes new beginning,
making its way
                    back to the earth,
toward a river -
                       to the sea -
                                          to the clouds,
 
to once again fall as rain.
 
 
somewhere else
on a future Christmas Day,
                    somewhere, for 
 
something....

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

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.