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clara-bellePoems
Perched atop my soft granite cloud I breathe in the apex of the land the vast miniature world below awaits the landing of my fingertips My fingers wander across the rusty red mesas slide down between its soft ribbed slopes caress its contours feel the sun baked warmth brushing against their pads My lips kiss the lily white clouds press against the blue glass sky burn in the flowering sun nibble on dark rolling mountains tongue tasting the icy frosted peaks My toes test the tiny tepid lakes chance upon the gritty texture just below prickle on the rugged treetops tap the smooth rocky surface retreating from my perch dancing in time to the pulse of the wind
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Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 2:48 PM UTC
Miniature World
Perched atop my soft granite cloud I breathe in the apex of the land the vast miniature world below awaits the landing of my fingertips My fingers wander across the rusty red mesas slide down between its soft ribbed slopes caress its contours feel the sun baked warmth brushing against their pads My lips kiss the lily white clouds press against the blue glass sky burn in the flowering sun nibble on dark rolling mountains tongue tasting the icy frosted peaks My toes test the tiny tepid lakes chance upon the gritty texture just below prickle on the rugged treetops tap the smooth rocky surface retreating from my perch dancing in time to the pulse of the wind
Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu, New Mexico was my muse for this particular poem.
Written by
clara-belle
Taiwanese
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 2:48 PM UTC
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