Turquoise

Turquoise

A turquoise breeze

Sparks, ignites

Flickers dreams

In grimy night

Illusionary dreams

Through distant fields

Thoughts layered there

In low, bluish hills

Chills, burns

It’s all your game

Nothing left

But this sweet refrain

(c) gmcknight 2012

"Real poetry doesn't say anything, 

it just ticks off possibilities."  

Jim Morrison