17.2.09

Natural scenery.

These pins on my arms,
Stretch toward my bag.
Reaching like crooked branches,
On a naked tree.
Brown leather bag,
Lit white,
By the cloud strewn sky.
The void on high.
An emptiness,
Drenched in winter white,
And deep hazel haze.
My limbs ache,
And creak,
With fatigue,
And want.
My body is screaming for you.
Natural scenery is aged.
It is tired,
And leathered.
It cannot wait much more,
These trials,
Are endeavours.

1 comment:

Dan said...

lovely man!
xxxxxx