Quietly Burning

What is a teardrop to an ocean of sorrow?

As we struggle still, beg and borrow?

Does the rainbow’s end have a pot of gold?

Or have the pretty baubles all been sold?

 

Empty handed with a glass half full,

Holding myself to warm  my soul,

Where the hood cools with a tick beneath my jeans,

And each blink is fraught with lucid dreams,

 

Getting closer to the place where it all collides,

Where the moon holds sway to my heaving tides,

As red leaves fall like embers from above,

The fires of autumn burn my tenuous love.

 

Advertisements

One thought on “Quietly Burning

Share Your Thoughts...

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