Turning Pebbles

like pebbles turning in a stream,
the gentle swish of corn grass swaying,
a mild breeze, laying your head
to the sweetest smell in heaven
and the gentle hum that purrs
an ancient melody, a fulsomeness,
so replete that at night we sleep,
with gentle breathing cotton,
watching ghosts dance
as they flicker strands of moonlight,
brushing lashes of hair falling
a cacophony of of ripples
and the gentle turn,
the streams of your existence
turning pebbles of a shortest life
lived in increments and battered pages,
so wise she lies, listening to the lore
of ancient sages in sighing in the corn grass
and leans her soul to sink upon the timid sands
of living lived and lives in bud.

Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 213 times
Written on 2012-06-13 at 16:30

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Soup in the Sand
Beautiful, gentle tone, with such wonderfully vivid images. The lines that leaped out at me the most were "the streams of your existence
turning pebbles of a shortest life" Poem struck me with such peaceful melancholy. A lovely write.