In Morning Mists (a poem)
Swirling, twisting, turning thoughts,
where life and imagined meet.
Long forgotten graveyard plots,
and grass beneath my feet.
Swirling, twisting, turning thoughts,
where life and imagined meet.
Long forgotten graveyard plots,
and grass beneath my feet.
the needles were once
in capable hands
though having been grasped
they resided with man
the power now his
a pattern he made
as the intended design
had started to fade
Though starkly intimidated
perhaps overly concerned
with what others think
still I reach out to you
Creativity in search of comfort
I am a dog lying in the doorway, a casual observer of clouds, filled with excitement, I run, spin, fall, arise, and do it again. I am an explorer of worlds, paddling down a stream. seeing old places as though new. filled with life and thought.
This skin
my mask
behind it
inside
I hide from the world
I hide from you
never showing
all that I feel
never showing
how deep
this small tree
kicked and trampled
fragile and scarred
a life just begun
Each moment,
although a mere fraction of time,
contains a lifetime lived.
The giggle induced din
engulfed the room in waves
splashing against each wall
with its ever expanding
joyful chatter
Most times I think
we choose to see
things through a filter
of what could be
Many seem content to walk
when they are made to fly
And though I walked among them
my dreams were in the sky
© 2009-2026 E.L. Redwine