The Wind and the Road
Left out in the cold. A pale rose on the road. An ice cold sun high above.
No end in sight. No road markers, no mile stones. Just endless black
stretching out. A serpent laying across the land. Splitting it, cleaving it in two
Hard, cold, unforgiving. This serpent, this road. A wind stirs. A wind blows.
It whistles then roars. Acrossed an empty landscape. Making objects move
as if alive. From where it comes. To where it goes. It is endless. A sudden
it is there. Uncalled for unasked, unbeckoned. It shows up. To accompany
the dark serpent. To stroke its rigid back. To never be caught. Never be seen
Just felt. Crawling across your skin. Down your back. Over your face
Scuttling into cracks and crannies. Moving on. Never to be caught or stilled
Copyright © Jeremy Moore | Year Posted 2011
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