Tango
The discussion of fluff vs angst in Dolly's diary inspired me to post one of my old-ish poems. This one.
FOREST
The moon is strung with threads of rain
Behind the foggy veil of cloud,
The grass is wet beneath my feet
And glistens colour like a thousand
Tiny eyes of tiny creatures
Concealed within the darkened green,
The forest music crawls in currents
Of breathless water on my skin
And barefoot, flushed with disregard
For morning's consequences spectral,
I'll run along the moonlit grass
And silver shadows neverending,
Bathed by the childhood tears of leaves
To fall, half-laughing, half-exhausted
Into the waiting, anxious, almost safe
Harbour of your heart.
Tango June, 2001
The moon is strung with threads of rain
Behind the foggy veil of cloud,
The grass is wet beneath my feet
And glistens colour like a thousand
Tiny eyes of tiny creatures
Concealed within the darkened green,
The forest music crawls in currents
Of breathless water on my skin
And barefoot, flushed with disregard
For morning's consequences spectral,
I'll run along the moonlit grass
And silver shadows neverending,
Bathed by the childhood tears of leaves
To fall, half-laughing, half-exhausted
Into the waiting, anxious, almost safe
Harbour of your heart.
Tango June, 2001