The WayA Poem by PerditionMaybe I missed it maybe I missed it all a
gale within my hands every force from life becomes a
strange comprehension a touch, a glance, a second where
the sun disrupts the painter’s lie melting in thought from those
valleys where we slow together a million times a day maybe I missed it the strangling from the tilt
suffering beside me the hum from the hard rubber discovering its own road where the wheels spun away spreading gravel and stars into a
dark forgotten universe the seduction from a crackle and
flash- clouds that don’t negotiate our disarray the brush of it against your skin
coming in from a brief night air knowing that sense and reason are
a language all their own a quiet crag nested far away a lonely chair sits there rocking a broken porch lamp where laughter curled beneath and the pale puffs of red resting to twilight maybe I did miss it all consumed with the bluebirds smiling in the dark and the taps of laughter beaming through the ground. © 2019 PerditionAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on April 17, 2019 Last Updated on April 30, 2019 |