We are a white children
of clouds
of sand
of carving words
that shape the sands we walk upon
and cannot judge one slip from another
at times
love is expressed through
the crudest terms
and so we divide,
define
and in each mind
rest the chicken bones of the last meal
press the prickly matter into the damp soil
where it will be forgotten.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 1:34 PM UTC
We are a white children
of clouds
of sand
of carving words
that shape the sands we walk upon
and cannot judge one slip from another
at times
love is expressed through
the crudest terms
and so we divide,
define
and in each mind
rest the chicken bones of the last meal
press the prickly matter into the damp soil
where it will be forgotten.
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