Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2016
felt it leave that day
no craft binds it here
-
in tickling grass of copper fields
a kiss and disappear
-
a slight caress of shadows
seductive draining touch
-
a wind of colored madness
no breath that matters much
-
it left the screaming whispers
to roam the time that lasts
-
it fell into the empty
and left this world of glass
Keith Grubb
Written by
Keith Grubb
Please log in to view and add comments on poems