Streaming Meditation
In the stream out back
folding marbled, polished stones
within its liquid tender arms
I strike conversation
Leaves from autumns passed
bed the bottom, amber lit
glittering with mica strung dreams
drowning reservations
You have known my youth
I have pierced your fluid skin
in winter, searching slumber's arms
in frosty breath we kissed
Now my face has aged
brutal truth upon my brow
and still you polish heavy thoughts
until they shine with bliss...
Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2005
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