Friday, 6 February 2015

The Trees in Day

Can we walk below, boughs entwined,
The green sung leaves, dancing breath,
What earthy scents, your hand in mine,
The Sun opens up, have we yet met?


Even a daggered jewel shines,
As it reflects and twirls and grows,
Sharded now and sharply worded,
But I'll never hold it, never mine,
As every thought that's mine explodes,
Into a single fragment morbid.

The Seagull

On a gull's wings spread,
His scaling cries across the wind,
And winding him through currents vast,
To places known and not without,
For not a flock has he to lead,
No friends of he nor of his kind,
Headfirst into the maelstrom blind,
New wonders alone to be beheld.