to wake and see
the playful light swirl
to feel, but feel quietly
like a storm beyond
mountains.
Little females growing
in flowery vows
dreaming of births

A bridge, I crossed
to fall at her feet
dustily breathed in moments
of vanquishment,
dreaming of
the sameness of summer
and the soreness of my
tired heart. Its not
the same round here
as again I feel quietly
the storm of existence

05/26/2002

Posted on 05/26/2002
Copyright © 2026 Travis G Finborg