Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2016
The strange familiar flew up out
of the past, it had been hiding there
for centuries, or even days, and it
wrapped around my room, the
walls offered a sliding berth

It carried the color of the evening
sun shining through rosemary,
but had no definite face

Just look at the odd stones and you'll
see what I mean, bulbous round objects
of language captured crystalline

I determine at this moment to build
an amplifier so that I can study
the sound of my choosing

Bring Miles Davis into the mix and
watch the atmosphere change
W L Winter
Written by
W L Winter
Please log in to view and add comments on poems