Crisp, clear, cool.

As if one’s breathe were their first.

Floating crystals of morning frost, burning bright in sun lit skies.

Raw, edged, a blade in the darkness of a shadow.  I am shaded by a thought.

How fluorescent is the dawn?

In a dream my eyes awoke, starved for sensation,

pupils dilated, take in, drink in.

Oh this fall morning, for I am mourning.

Lost again is the Autumn, flora struck by Ra’s flame,

But now as a knife in the dark, winter plants its poison.

Lost, is the Autumn, again I wait for spring.

-M.E. Inkowl

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s