The eye blinks
a life ends
a life begins
A tear falls
and a flower blooms
in the dust of the desert
then withers under the
relentless sun
A hawk circles high, hunting
and the clouds move across
the sky, whispering
time is fleeting
The clock ticks
a door opens
a door closes
and the footsteps
echo on the stone floor, fading
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2 comments:
love the great imagery, I try but cant even come close to this.
@The Mucker - thank you for reading! I really enjoyed your poem "The River at Sunrise." I know that feeling of "sometimes."
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