I’m driving driving
Driven into the yellow lines
Like the buzz of alarms
And the machines I love muchly
I drive from broken men with tattoos
Of women on the hearts
Of women on the hearts
To flowers crimson
Like swirling skirts at dawn
Surely I will lose sight of criterion
Like swirling skirts at dawn
Surface into the light of an impossible dream
Great atmosphere. Last line is a beauty.
ReplyDeletethank you H.P.
ReplyDeleteA knight errant!
ReplyDeleteDan - you never know where the road will lead.
ReplyDelete