Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2014
Listening to
cowboy songs
I'm wishing I could
dance
along the horizon
like a Pale Rider
in the moment before
he followed the
setting
sun but all that's
left of my
nameless
grit and grandeur are
whispers
through dry weeds
and the echo of an
ache
in the tune
of wild wanderers
confined
to a song played on repeat.
Liz Anne
Written by
Liz Anne
632
   Anna Lo
Please log in to view and add comments on poems