Litkicks Message Board Archive

morning ride with you

Posted to Action Poetry




the sun rises
through a mist and fog,
a yolk
in a pool of blue.
(your hand is soft)
i'm a prisoner to this morning
where you are near
and i am far
and morning is blaring.
(fate erased your mountains).
what if i die?
will you remember me
as i am this day,
a smell of heart on my palm.
would you say,
looking back,
that you loved me?
the sun peaks higher
spreading its wings into a pinkish orange
and the sky
is everywhere
and your hand
(is so soft.)