The shoreline is only the clouds of where you want to be
in the pink and orange dawn where rocks mark dark shores.
Later, when the inferno also rises burning red and pitiless,
a watched pot most certainly boils.
Where is the calming thunder?
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I love this Gerry. Great poem!
ReplyDeleteMerci, Danielle. Sorry for taking so long to respond. Appreciate the read as always.
ReplyDelete