Dreams of sculpted glass,
and memories of mist,
Finger trails of forgotten words,
cracked open at dawn.
Moon slept his hours,
in the arms of a mountain,
while sun washed his seared face,
preparing for another day.
In the moments just before sunrise
when a thin blanket of sleep
tried desperately to cover
the last vestiges of the dreams
The universe stopped and cried.
for all the cobwebs of yesterday,
and the mists of this day break
and the passion and life
evaporated...
I opened my eyes and stepped into my world.
No comments:
Post a Comment