untitled

i no longer cling to branches
where there is no tree standing
ankles wrapped in roots
sprouting from hard soil
no smell of rain today
in air to thin to breathe
go forward still
there is no promise of light
bother not with the shadows
cast by feet moving too slow
winter come soon

Published by Shon Lomax

Wordsmith, spitter of verse,vowel breaker, screenwriter always, reluctant poet most of the time. The list deserves a list. A delicious vagabond currently piping out hot dreams from a beach with no sand. Pocketing as many stories as my britches will allow. Shadow dancing with long-armed monkeys hoarding all of the bananas. Daydream believer. Just don't call me Davey Jones.

Leave a comment