A thicket of thieves purloined my letters, trampling them underfoot,
into the mottled leaf carcasses strewn on the path,
recklessly ravishing a rambling creek in a rain-rutted ravine,
drinking crystal-clear water, slaking thirst with iciness, reviving tired limbs,
lounging bone-lazy in a magical copse, tracing the skeletons of dragonfly wings on the breeze.
What else have they stolen?
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me. Some of my fiction might have provoked divorce proceedings in another state.😈
MA English literature, College of Charleston
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Bartender
On the heels of grief, pain bears down hard. On the heels of death, pain awakens the quiet place between the end of our own life and now. Feeling anything is like seeing a film and in black and white, slow motion, all sound turned off. Just watching. Gritting teeth, awkward smiles and bloody red eyes move around, scanning the others who are feeling something I don't want to feel, but I do. Escapism is all I have ever known. ~
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)2 days ago in Poets
Comments (1)
Loveeeeee the alliteration! 😁😁 I also loved mottled leaf carcasses.