XVII. Unmade
Behind hazy moons
float the distant stars of sky
hot in their glitter.
Now these stars may come undone
to the sound of falling rain.
These clouds are of doubt
studded in empyrean,
above my thick mind.
There’s a forest in my house
with words waiting to get out.
Beyond private walls
darkness whorls around us
capturing dream stuff.
Inside bricks that I have laid
our minds have begun to fray.
So unmade we are,
against hazy crescent moons,
in tatters we bide.
Inside our brightest bedroom,
the stars, they fill our hearts up.
The End
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Author guidance for This poem
Poem 17 from my upcoming collection, 'Letters Of Neon' - just to give you a taster. POEM TAGS
THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
XVII. Unmade, which
was posted on Nov 25, 2010 by
PaulMacklin.
This is a solo poem.
About this poem
"A glimpse at my upcoming book "Letters Of Neon""
This poem is filed under:
Abstract, Imagery, Love / Romance
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