Poetry, sunday whirl, wordle



Sunday Whirl – 469

deep end distant damage
silver chain of footsteps folly

seeds of time sprouting raindrops
sifting through the sand and brick

memory mist of sudden rain
a well of water splashes me dry

sitting, standing, leaning or lost
stay or go, sleeping and awake

constant calamity calm
the days drift into night

skyblue thinking
looking up, the starspeak silence roars


One thought on “not.yet

writing is everything...

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