Monday, July 9, 2007

On the Peaks of December Dark..

I wonder if you heard that voice

hidden there between and beyond the fall

crashing through the cascading silence

and all the world is all the words we once shared

found clues of your exsistence

your trodden path

an old scarf

all those colors you used to weave

an old copper ring

some shells

I can still taste all those ghosts

all those sad moments

like when the tape just broke

it was bound to happen

face down in flowers

in flames

tiny winged thing flitting about our hair

as those sirens wailing in low tones in the distance

provided soundtrack for waking

ransacked the jar for change

to buy just a little more time together

deeply asleep in the midst of razor winter

with all the doors and windows wide open

all four winds

blasting us to opposite sides of the world

that day was my birthday

I decided it...


CY said...

I can't stop reading this.

snakedance said...

Thank you so much cy...
I'll keep writing and writing!!

that day really did change everything...

cy said...

Please do! Sometimes I get hooked on the rhythm of your words and I can't imagine how such perfect sounds came to be.

snakedance said...

just knowing you feel like that is enough to motivate me for a long while! I shall do me best to keep things interesting!! Thank you very very much for coming here cy.