i fold the day like bed sheets;
washed and hung out to dry
like dreams in a purple summer.
there was no time
to lace my flesh up
and you find me unraveling
in my memories, casting lines
for sunlight --
when i wept and dried my eyes
i would bury myself amongst
the long grass, remain preserved
in perennial winter and pray for daylight
(when i can't bear the night
any longer --)
and i wonder; could you tell me?
who drew it like it was all the things
dear to me, with a lunar madness
a small gesture, and i know, i know
you are.
(06/03/2017)
YOU ARE READING
THE OCEAN
Poetry'In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, and...
