Posted in Photography, Poetry

Transitions


Back to writing in September is a good feeling. Like a mug of hot something, to keep the cozy from draining into a cold stream, my dreams begin to fly.

A truer voice burgeons
a bubbling cauldron of choice
i claimed red yesterday
but today i dive
into a black pillow
to soothe away the abstract.

My pen no longer idle
the paper no longer clean
i wipe away the tears
and bury the past between
what lies ahead
and stare straight away to dream.

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