Friday, January 14, 2011

Melancholy Sundays




Sun kissed embers grayed by the inevitability of a lukewarm cease; cool in the arid air

Cool breezes cascade from the ocean ,frigidly depart as the stagnant stench of heat emerges from a dried earth


Violently radiant tree leaves criss cross beneath the blanketed sky; bosomed by stems, only to pierced skins by a razor eyed sun


Blades of grass once swayed by white cloud puffs, succumb to the immaturity of seedlings vying for the affections of dirt so vehemently disdained


As Song birds hold chorus crickets violin no more as they gaze to the heavens; the choir of crows humming their final song


As I look in the distance and survey life’s short stories I recollect and smile...



These eyes have never seen anything beautiful...

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