Those first steps
Awkward and backward
Were sweet and ours
Clueless of a good direction
Tripping through the hours
To the fork of our creation.
She, my rooted love,
Spoke to me through the clouds above
filling my mind of altitude
With dissimilar descriptions
The left and right of hostile lifestyles
The up and down of chaos worthwhile
Past the silver distractions
To catch her eye
Instead I caught her fey smile
Already my hand in hers
She raced us away
6/1/13
YOU ARE READING
Typed Word Series
PoetryWords connect all of us. Through laughter, memories, or ridiculous melancholy, we are what we say and what we write. TWS differs from WWS in form only. These are poems longer than 7 lines, allowing a little more freedom in exploring themes and more...
