new morning

throb and burn and spin

until

the white takes a nap on your tongue – the vertigo denial

spin into the chemical dissolve

and the morning is new: fresh, calm, chilly, Loud yet simply Silent.

patters of children’s feet rushing down concrete stairs

towards yellow metal boxes full of hopes and dreams

I used to sit in that box – alone with the panging of clatter and laughter

knowing when metal and metal collide

hope explodes through the air violent – expanding – spinning – burning the clouds

and falls like white ash on the center of an outstretched tongue

to dissolve into

survival.

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About tanyas13sonnets

poet and dreamer
This entry was posted in Poetry/Prose. Bookmark the permalink.

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