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
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1 comment:
Oh … !!! so precise & simply perfect !
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