photo : Pohara
If I were a tree
I’d be alone and cling to the rock
I would follow the wind
in a zany dance
I would delight in infinite soliloquies
then at nightfall
my leaves would rustle
inn the crash of the tide
Archives par mot-clé : rocks
#3046 poetry
(photo : Abel Tasman park coastal walk)
we will hastily slip in silence into the cracks of the day, without being noticed by most, who won't notice neither our souls nor our stories: life is lived in all sors of ways you know.
poetry day
looking for (something)
finding (it)
crossing (it) out
reformulating (it)
doing (it) again
finding (it sometimes) mourning
While walking
all of a sudden
mourning the one
who could have been
then feeling like
crying but humming
instead harmony
in the mess of the rocky
beach, harmony of stones
signs of age
proud traces
of their travels
in the rivers
(but look no further than tomorrow)