The Sleeping StoneA Poem by AidanLooking for some feedback on this one. Thanks!Dappled sunlight filters down through the gnarled fingers of wise old trees He sits, surrounded by bramble and bush Calling out for a guiding hand on skinned, scratched knees
Not a sound answers back Everything, from the immovable branches, to the fluttering fallen leaves on the forest floor are muted; appearing as though dead hidden and silent As though God himself has put the Great green Earth to rest The shades are steep, covering everything in quiet melancholia, as a burial shroud covers the dearly departed He huddles, eyes shut tight, hands covering his face He waits immobile, more as a dreaming stone, a monolith, than a sleeping man Counting slowly backwards, he frames the world into the spaces caught between his fingers falling quietly through the years. © 2014 AidanReviews
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StatsAuthorAidanSan Antonio , TXAboutEnglish/Teaching Major that enjoys reading (and writing!) poetry, science fiction, and horror. Looking to keep a place where I can post writing and get some constructive feedback. Would love to hear y.. more..Writing
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