"What is the point of this story? What information pertains? The thought that life could be better is woven indelibly into our hearts and our brains."
-Paul Simon
One hundred thousand heartbeats condensed into an ancient oak.
The sky lay above.
Branches breathe across the blue creating shades of green and shadow.
The sun sparkled above.
Pouches of wispy gold traverse the pale shadow of her legs.
Her rosy hands clutch the brown entwined lifeline on either side.
It lay above.
Her descent begins with the push of one patent leather toe then sways,
in and out of gold and shadow
Pumping her skinny legs her toule fairy dress never touching moist earth.
Highe and higher her legs puller her closer and closer until her sight is raised to patches of blue sky.
harder she pumps.
closer she flies.
Maybe this time.
Poetry by Coneja Linda
Read 618 times
Written on 2009-08-10 at 17:40
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-Paul Simon
Swinging
One hundred thousand heartbeats condensed into an ancient oak.
The sky lay above.
Branches breathe across the blue creating shades of green and shadow.
The sun sparkled above.
Pouches of wispy gold traverse the pale shadow of her legs.
Her rosy hands clutch the brown entwined lifeline on either side.
It lay above.
Her descent begins with the push of one patent leather toe then sways,
in and out of gold and shadow
Pumping her skinny legs her toule fairy dress never touching moist earth.
Highe and higher her legs puller her closer and closer until her sight is raised to patches of blue sky.
harder she pumps.
closer she flies.
Maybe this time.
Poetry by Coneja Linda
Read 618 times
Written on 2009-08-10 at 17:40
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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