Lost
By: ECole789
Lost—
woolgathering.
night . . .
her
dreams—
days
solitude . . .
fields—
white . . .
windswept—
seedlings.
Gone lost, once
In a while—woolgathering
where night left off
with her
indigo-satin dreams . . .
in eve' of days falling,
just sitting . . .
in faraway solitude
upon green of fields,
dappled fluffed white—
poised for windswept take off:
dandelion's seedlings.
11/10/16
YOU ARE READING
Smokestacks
Poetryclear your mind, for a minute . . . let your senses inhale---breath in, and hold---this air, saturated of these words---of mine. Smokestacks ECole789
