Monday, June 18, 2012

The Governess and her Rove

Up and down
running from the ground

looking for a place to hide,
while jumping to the sea

from lily pad to circumstance,
I am a curious shell of floating stone
curious even to me;


Idle on wet surfaces
engraved by the odd fin
like a seal in season,
I wade for tides of danger
floating for so long

basking in the under glow sitting until dawn;

It is here and now
in this oiled glow

bathing under sunburns of frangipanis’ stem
that these flowers of lost momentum
wilted like fallen rebels
have languid minds unopened
as tired as jutted roots;


Lost and breathing smoke
setting fires to armed foliage,
I have discovered
trapped in these minds of stolen hope

that water is-oh-so-sparse
and these engineers of dust,
consuming listless sprigs,

are as poignant as the green
in envy’s reflective shadow.

{a.currie}
Written 2005, Edited 2011
Copy Right 2012 PomonaLIFE, All Rights Reserved

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