Stables and piano keys


Stables steaming with young horses
and rosy, new born babies
lift in the dark, early hours,
floating like islands in the mist.

Piano keys offer stepping stones
for the weary visionary,
curving around silent chimney's,
softly humming.

Mothers reflect
in mirrors of packed hay
with heavy breasts
and a timeless belonging.

A bubble of soap, a promise
that leaves the question
hanging like a stable
just before the awakening.




Poetry by Bob
Read 532 times
Written on 2006-12-19 at 23:21

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A scene appears to me through steamy breath. It scents of stable, afterbirth and wet wool. When I turn it upside down, it snows.
2006-12-19