i sit and stare out the window
stare out the window at the brown dead grass
the dirty snow melting into muddy slush
the mud that is criss-crossed and destroyed with ruts and tire tracks
the empty field, still as a body in a coffin
and the darkening blue sky beneath the pale sun that sets above the mountains
and i think about endings
there are swans all around me
but they are blind
or i am invisible
and i don't know which
i once found myself at a crossroads
i searched within myself
and like they love to say
i took the road less traveled
now i am at the end of the road
i say goodbye and yet i find myself thinking about you again
i think about you in the weeping willow
singing a song of emotions that i do not know
i wonder if given the opportunity
Comments
There's a forlorn bent to this piece, for sure, but that's because you've done such an excellent job of establishing the desolate setting and that melancholy, in-between time of year. Each of your observations may be brief, but they pack a punch.
Log in or register to post comments.