I throw all my questions to the midnight sky.
They rise and ricochet off the crooked constellation
And slowly sink back down,
Spinning silently 'til they reach their destination,
A pothole in the ground.
Buried beneath dust and dirt
Lay the answering words,
Tucked away like coffins
Hiding from the birds.
Sep 24, 2010
Sep 24, 2010 at 8:31 AM UTC
I throw all my questions to the midnight sky.
They rise and ricochet off the crooked constellation
And slowly sink back down,
Spinning silently 'til they reach their destination,
A pothole in the ground.
Buried beneath dust and dirt
Lay the answering words,
Tucked away like coffins
Hiding from the birds.