I dream nights like these,
Where the wind shifts and pivots
dancing trees to chattering paper laughter-
limbs thrown akimbo,
their applause of swirling leaves eddy and twirl
to shifting patchwork and gingham
strewn restless in abandoned grasses.
I am running-
each step lofts me higher
echoes of reason and gravity left behind.
I am silk over bird bones, cloud dusted stars are my mantle
and the moon sits at my shoulder, whispering secrets-
yesterday's silvered reflections.
I am both more, and less, for hearing.
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About the Creator
Cynthia Chape
Gen-Xer happily dabbling in the arts
Comments (1)
Well expressed and fantastic use of vocabulary. An excellent poem!