Swaying and captured by
words that seep and boil
into my mind.

The tea is getting cold,
and I watch as feline
companies dance in their
ambition to draw my attention.

I drag my soul into
memories long gone,
and histories that seem
so obscure to the void.

And yet I write all these
words so that memories do
not fade into the twilight.

I watch with weary eyes
that seem to keep the
youth that first drank
in the sky.

But only my body is the proof
of wrinkles around a discouraged
mouth.

10/25/2009

Posted on 10/26/2009
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