Defined Lines

We stare at the moon

With visions of faces 

Watchful eyes, ribbons and laces

Imagining the smile of some honored goddess

Behind the clouded face of a faded moon

And in fantasy we might swoon

Under a blanket of ethereal stars

Only in reality we awkwardly spoon

Against rivers of lightened cars

Vehicles pouring taillights into our minds

Like the eyes of some beast we are desperate to find

Because we all have dreams

And imagination never fled

Always running amok in our heads

Like some loony escaped from their retirement beds

Tearing up reality with "what ifs' 

Expectations leading to nothing

But the cold lines of numbers

Because the moon has no face

No defined lines

And where you could swear the pronounced bridge of a nose stood

There instead was the tail wisp of a cloud

And in the defined lines of the grain of some unknown wood

There instead was the biting edge of an ax 

Cutting away all the ages of a tree once proud


The End

6 comments about this poem Feed