The Invisible collection of imaginable recollections
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The Invisible collection of imaginable recollections
By Sadie Archibald
When I bite into a peach I think of the sky
When the suns going down, and the colours all fly
Orange is unleashed, in streaks of juice
Creamy pink mystifies into shades quite loose
When I smell a flower, I think of my pillow
Its soft fabrics woven with that of its willow
the nectar, the stuffing, its petal ,its cover
The doona opening up like a flower in summer
When I see the ocean I think of my tears
Salty and cold they drip down my ears
Some come in waves, others in drops
Some of them ending up bruising the rocks
When my feet tread on sand I think of everlasting
Walking through days of desert, the incessant fasting
The sandtimers turning, the infinite grains
Boundless metres of wide ,open plains
When I open the door, I open my book
Turning of new pages, beginnings and looks
New adventures to see and people to discover
Closing the pages of one book then opening another.
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