Sunday, March 31, 2013

Underground rivers
Shimmer through the topsoil,
That tints and dims them
As they run south
Under purple valleys
from twin lakes
That bore into the
Center of the Earth
Where secrets flit
Like birds
Learning their wings
And hopes fail
Like old legs
Weary of the gravity
And pebbles set off
Tinny echoes
In the depths.

1 comment:

  1. this poem seems full of ennui. I'm sorry for the weariness.

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