FirstWords

They are a burst, the first, could be worse...
I thirst, like a bird perched, 
parched, arched in an absurd curse
Yet terse, I parse, part and parcel, these 
words, like crumbs left behind for those 
who wander in so they may choose, or doze
or play and muse
among the prose
A-


Wondering what witty wonderful words
would wander within while waiting, we 
walked with wistfulness, wailing with winter
Time told tales today...
A

How can we possibly change the future? Remembering how things were say, 25 years ago, it sounds like a long time, yet seems like a blink...or maybe a wink...

Sunrise over the River


Comments