The Moon on Tuesdays
Flicker,
quicker,
feeling sicker
a stone in my bed
of dust
the days I checked
the growth of grass,
my feelings,
my content
fell to rust.
Holy life,
abstracted we see
a frail, pale
surviving idea
flailing.
link • •moon• •poetry• •waiting• •resentment• •life• •survival•
• 3 years ago
