Through night’s body, day breaks –
a wheelbarrow of dreams transformed
to a pile of thoughts.
I want dawn’s gray curtains hung
upon high floods of air,
the pizzicato voice of tiny
brown birds replaced by
the shameless, noisy gull.
I want to wallow in the clumsy
freedom of steamy clouds
caressing waves, as you
touched me, so elegantly,
like the wings of the moth.
I want to paint away sorrow
with the green furze of spring.
I want the fresh wind but
also its still, breathless
moments.
I want to take part in
the year’s re-birth and
create you all over again.
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 4:55 AM UTC
Through night’s body, day breaks –
a wheelbarrow of dreams transformed
to a pile of thoughts.
I want dawn’s gray curtains hung
upon high floods of air,
the pizzicato voice of tiny
brown birds replaced by
the shameless, noisy gull.
I want to wallow in the clumsy
freedom of steamy clouds
caressing waves, as you
touched me, so elegantly,
like the wings of the moth.
I want to paint away sorrow
with the green furze of spring.
I want the fresh wind but
also its still, breathless
moments.
I want to take part in
the year’s re-birth and
create you all over again.