Words Without

My ghost waits at the window without words
Wearing my face as though a mirror of the soul
A certain innuendo creeps along the garden hedge
Little caterpillar puffs of smoke, bluish green and gray
Puts my thoughts on edge of a cliff high over the sea
Clouds of birds wheel and call out the names of drowning souls
A mute clown dives frowning at his frozen toes
Lighting up the night with a cannonball confetti splash
A rather rash wave to seed all those birds
My ghost waits at the window without/words



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 717 times
Written on 2014-08-09 at 01:50

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Nabeela Altaf
Brilliant! I could almost feel the scene unfolding in front of me.
2014-08-09