Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Morning



This dream, tangled in sleepy veins of red blush
Follows a path to my eyes, to my heart
Piercing the mouth of the horizon


Waking strings become taut
Their voice lifts me from my sleep
Movement begins for a marionette of the sun


The moon sinks into the cusp of my shoulder
Brown hairs shine like the wet bark of trees
While grays twinkle with the now banished stars


This dream reaches out to the mirror
Trusting my reflection with my soul
It ties me in the same love I give my friends

3 comments:

  1. I love this... You are a beautiful writer.

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  2. "The cusp of my shoulder" I love that. So evocative.

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  3. Thanks Ladies, your opinion means a lot :)

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