A gentle breeze,
dewdrops
on blades of grass
sun dappled surfaces
gentle waves
angry waves
white sand
wet sand underfoot
white curtains swaying
on open windows
a touch
the need for a touch
a touch that’s more
than a touch
and reaches the bones,
in certain instances
old houses
rotten doors
other inanimates
with backstories
spring blossoms
dried branches 
against blue skies
longing
loneliness
silence
solitude
noise and color
nostalgia
or numbness

All listed and unlisted
ingredients on poetry
that lines my cyber shelves.

Time to pack up and leave
in search for something
less generic than all of the above.

March 8, 2014
Categories: Uncategorized . . Author: Prags

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