Anosha

.

Count the numerous paths I have never taken;

They reflect in the glass of a tainted window

Or is it in my eyes that I see them broken?

Let me lie in the shade of the old tree’s meadow

.

As notes die in the air, I feel the aftertaste

Of sugar in the lime, light on my tongue, heavy;

The song must now conclude, the script shall go to waste

As each potential reel fakes another prelude.

.

I have seen the future and yet live in the past,

Silence melts the dischord symphony in no blast,

The voice finally breaks, in time even ink fades…

.

The screen goes back to black, the race comes to a close,

The moment is over: anew the river flows,

And I feel the prickle of a myriad sharp blades.

.


The name of this poem came to me as it was almost upon completion – wherefrom, I know not.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s