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Distant

Lead soldiers along the path –
Childhood of burnt sugar
That rings and chimes...
Forward march.
Traces in front of you.
Thick dust in the wake
of the broom.
A leaf of the poplar
falls onto the ground,
dim interior,
flat eyes push each other
in the keyhole.
It’s raining in the jungle.
A unicorn.
Inaccessibility.
Noisy bats
weave
the night
with their bronze shuttles..
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2012

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by Unknown
on Aug 2012
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Last Viewed: Jul 26

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