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Click hereA vacant wind blows
through, stealing
away the
thriving thoughts birthed
by the day.
Darkness comes
then, empty-handed
and searching,
judicious in its
searing reality. Will
there come a time when
all
that I once was
will return to me?
listless and airy...like an afterthought...a thought we all must ponder ...blue
"Darkness comes
then, empty-handed
and searching"
what a cool image, darkness empty-handed...damn I have felt that way but never thought of it that way, THAT is what being a poet is-- showing someone what they have always looked at and never seen. That is what makes me want to read poetry, and what I so rarely find.
annaswirls