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blank landscapes
by Bethany LeeSunday; Saturday
The sacred, whatever-you-feel-like-doing days.
The breath on your neck ceases;
strong sighs of relief follow.
The alarm clock wont yank you suddenly
From the middle of a masquerade,
Leaving your eyes jaded to the newly found sunlight.
A shower melts the dreams away
Leaving your color-washed canvas blank.
There were landscapes there lastnight
09/04/2008 Posted on 09/04/2008
Copyright © 2025 Bethany Lee
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 07/28/10 at 02:20 AM The picture at night is always more alluring than what is painted in the morning. Morning has that pesky reality feel that erases the nights magic. Morning shakes the etch a sketch clean. Great read! |
| Posted by Rachelle Howe on 11/26/12 at 05:31 PM You have such a poignant voice in this. I dig. I really like the imagery. |
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