| |
Heavenwards
I don't think I'll ever tire
Of looking to the sky at night.
Being thoroughly inked by an indigo thumb,
Being verily blessed with an absense of light.
In a snippet of silence in the shade of the sun,
Where light bulbs and flames are the faltering ones,
One's size and position become obselete,
As echoes of ages are laid at your feet.
Copyright ©
Annabelle Jane
|