Time is a reckless revelation


Time is a reckless revelation
corrupting matter and me
as I pass through these winter woods
with fear of all dark ends,
wincing when the wind cries.

Just a shell of bone and skin
I call my home in vain,
decaying by the thread of winds
that drift from railroad tracks
with eyes that wait for snow.

A searing stare burns the tree,
a meeting fills the eye
with regrets of tales unwritten,
of ties and fleeting turns,
searching for small footprints in snow.




Poetry by Bob
Read 540 times
Written on 2007-02-15 at 20:23

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Karen Canning
great imagery, it felt bitter sweet to read, like a longing unfulfilled, you are a really good poet, be proud

huggs
karenxx
2007-03-03