Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2012
The flower opens softly.
Welcomes the sun into its depths.
The seeds slowly take flight,
Wandering between shafts of sunlight.

A baker walks home after work.
He, or she.Β They nod to a passerby.
Must be friends.
How nice.

A ribbon falls gently from the hair
Of a little girl.
Tied there loosely, as it was.
The wind had no trouble starting the dance,
That would lead it fluttering down the busy street.

I smell you, see you,
Hear the call of the ocean.
The roll and rumble.
The fall, and tumble.
Maybe I've just had too
Much salt water today.

The muscles contract.
Air flows through the tube, to bring about
The vibrations of song, and moonlit afternoons.
Laughter floats unimpeded into the wind.

I must be insane to think
That my feet actually touch the ground.
I'm sure they just fall through it.
I really shouldn't walk in graveyards anymore.
Evan Backward
Written by
Evan Backward
Please log in to view and add comments on poems