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an old spirit. restless, waiting
for an awkward gypsy
who's tethered his horses on the plain
she sleepwalks through time, slowly
through doorways of a crumbling sarcophagus
slowly,
like turning brittle pages of an ancient book
while he follows his sorrow into the desert
eating crumbs and
making love to black moths and lizards
do mad souls embrace
will they catch their death
of not belonging
her blood has frozen
her voice doesn't echo
he drowns in a sea of forgetting
very nice...
danke. glad it is liked. i don't
A true artist never like his/her own work :P
lol. i'm true but am no artist. mahse thank you ti mai ang
Very Nice poem.....keep it up.. go for braces
Lol. Lol. Yes i always reckoned i needed to brace myself for the future :E