Monday, January 30, 2012

How Relaxing is the Rain?

It begins,
the hot breeze
lazily carting a hot day
cracking stones.

The icy ripples on
pearled pebbles,
flowing to and so forth;
my, drug.

A piece of fire,
it slips a little later.
We run, drop drop
in a pond, the sun without end.

Rays shine and shiver,
burning smoothly; no alloying.
Neurons alloy, liquid lightning.
Skin shimmering copper.

Fingers and bones turn
a liquid gold.
Overhwelming cinn-a-mon sense, charred by fire;
every breath feels like the last.

How relaxing is the rain to the parched earth?

No comments:

Post a Comment