I was
taught from my first tooth
To turn
onions clockwise
And that
the night is a beautiful bearded lady
Lactating
dreams
Later I was
taught that love is not forever
And that we
are born to die in the arms of strangers
When dawn
finally breaks a new pallet of snow
Will turn
to rust in hours
And the
beauty in a new green leaf holds the memory
Of hope
Intriguing images all around. "...a memory of hope.." It is as though one has lost something or some part of one's self. And yet one still recalls having it once. A feeling that vanished or died. One remembers that and longs for it, or one mourns for it.
ReplyDeletethank you Dan.
ReplyDeleteGreat work Robert. Especially enjoyed this one.
ReplyDeletethank you H.P.
ReplyDelete