the air that remains in the lungs
the last low bit
stubbornly hangs on
arms crossed, humphing that
the bottom is something
inviting "depth" as a euphemism
the fool forgets to breathe
and chokes stale
you with eyes are meant to rise
pick life up in pieces with fingers
these pieces easily slide through
hold on to the depth
it will only get darker
damp and clammier
to surrender is not to lose
but to choose risk, hope
in new eyes, wonder, surpise
No comments:
Post a Comment