28 January 2009

poetry wednesday

giant tra=cks

i take small steps and savor,
the good taste of the wine,
of summer nights with roman vines,
can i get a ticket to new amsterdam?

two strange coins in a tired pocket,
i ask the guard for a signal,
to which i gave him my laundry ticket,
and told him,
"thats the one you want!".

there are arrows passing by,
and im in no hurry to buy now,
so, i greet the first person,
with a well earned smile,
and hand over one of my coins.

reflections are clearer in the dark,
learned are the fictitious,
and scarse are the many. so,
i bleed, and know that by bleeding,
i hear the morning call,
to which the very last coin,
was forged.

copyright cosmic 2009

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