light
turns to dust
on the stony floor
of mortality.
the shades we wear
are too dark
to see
it
go to ground.
all those
particles –
sparkling;
and we
wade,
knee-deep,
in the thoughtful gift
meant to uplift.
I visualize you sitting at a spare desk in a high tower waiting for the moon to dispense the magic the allows you to write such sublime poetry. In reality, you’re probably sitting at an overflowing computer desk with a cup of tea at your side and a cat on your lap.
Simply beautiful. When I read your posts I always imagine it being read with a gentle whisper. Your posts are just written that way, so gentle. 🙂
LikeLike
thank you very much, Daan! 🙂
LikeLike
I do love your work.
LikeLike
why thank you! 🙂 nice of you to visit…
LikeLike
I visualize you sitting at a spare desk in a high tower waiting for the moon to dispense the magic the allows you to write such sublime poetry. In reality, you’re probably sitting at an overflowing computer desk with a cup of tea at your side and a cat on your lap.
LikeLike
😀 i like your version much, much better! thank you so much… once again, i blush at your words.
LikeLike
Beautifully done, Miriam. I too want to know if you are in the tower, writing, or if you are at an overflowing computer desk 😉
LikeLike
oh, i’d love to be… sounds a lot more beautiful than where i am…
LikeLike