I wear it on my head
by dan ankers
In my smile there is a rosebud growing
a delicate bloom, where there used to be gloom
At one time there was terror there
And tense lips
spilling terse words, sparingly
Only now, a stranger approaches
from deep within me
He awoke from beneath a prehistoric tree
some short time ago, where he was napping
and waiting for the world to come;
My readiness stirred him
And as I see his shriveled form, through the distant etheric mists of
myself;
His back bent with wisdom
A smile of knowing grows across my face
No comments:
Post a Comment