11/4/18
You take my hand, leading me
Off into worlds of ice,
Ice that begins to melt
Under an orange sun, giving way
To gentle fields of
Buttercups, tulips, grass that
Goes on and on.
And we fling off our shoes
And all things that bind us
And we are free and mad
And laughing, running through the
Field, blue sky over our heads,
Terse earth scraping our
Feet, scraping loose layers
Of accumulated numbness.
It all melts away,
Fog in an alpine morning,
Into the shouting peaks
Made of serrated glass
Paper of a sketch you
Showed me as the
Birds began to wake.
Take my hand and take me
There, to the place
We will lose ourselves, to
The place expectation embraces,
Never to disappoint, ever
To fulfill our naive wishes.
NOTE: Thank you for reading the fifth installment of Hello, November!
--KingfisherBirdLady
YOU ARE READING
Hello, November
PoetryThis is a collection of my writings from November 2018. It's a continuation of "Poetry" and "Poetry and Writes", but will be much shorter. I'll try to write something each day of the month and post as I go--even if what I've written sucks. Who care...
