The woods bundle under
my pillow as an orange sun
shafts from between
colossal branches that are now,undeniable
i sing my appraisal to the twig
upon who's arm the cuckoo rests,
not now,as i wait for him
and hear the forest repeat after me..
my pillow as an orange sun
shafts from between
colossal branches that are now,undeniable
i sing my appraisal to the twig
upon who's arm the cuckoo rests,
not now,as i wait for him
and hear the forest repeat after me..
So circular, and I was just complaining how my thoughts are thus. Though here, it feels natural and right. A rhythm to things. Cycle of life. I wish it translated to emotional thought. I need to be linear. But I can't get off the merry-go-round sometimes!
ReplyDeleteAnnie,
ReplyDeleteIts good to have you here after some time...were we lost in translation...the postal services are really slow i guess....The merry go round isn't merry any more...