Step in water, step on stone
Draw the single line of one who walks alone
Walk through rain, push through the breeze
Flows around you, the shape it leaves
behind
is empty
Warm is green, and blue is cold
Thoughts unspoken grow dim and old
Red is scorching, yellow free
Never a color that could warm itself to me
Thoughts new-born have inner light
Glowing strong and seeming right
Wake to record them, half past midnight
They fade, they fade
They wither.
(the dream had a piano in it)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment