broken glass
beyond recollected days
starting points
and shoes worne to the ground
broken glass under our feet
and the war just turned off
thoughts inside your head
a riddle unsolved
pictures forming
black a coulor new to me
ice a surface I touch
in hours of sleepless thoughts
still Robins sing of spring
and yellow is a coulour
in mornings of remembrance
so I cut pictures in to half
leaving love behind
you a shadow
along side deeper waters
Poetry by kath
Read 442 times
Written on 2007-03-24 at 06:48
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