Monday, May 4, 2009

from the archives

I'm referring to my notebook...thoughts go in, and they rarely see the light of day after that.

I wondered all the way home

It was feather-light and soft
the way we touched, and
all the diamonds I saved
spilled through my fingers,
useless, to the ground.
We pulsed, the white-capped
waves
beating on shore
rhythmic in a moment's movement
and I left.
Drove home through darkness
shiny wet streets, artificial glare
of promise.
I contemplated the mineshaft
where I once abandoned
my existence
and I walked
through sunlit woods
boots crunching on earth,
holding my treasure in my soul.

3 comments:

Solo said...

'artificial glare of promise', girl, you give me shivers. Please keep sharing with us. Your talent is unbelievable.

Anna said...

Thanks Solo.

I'm blushing :)

greg said...

I have to agree with Solo, this is just lovely