A girl stands on a swing
gazing into the far distance
the wind lifts her dress gently
creating small ripples
a breeze blows through her hair
making small tuffs
she’s thin as a wisp
but holds on thrilled
gazing into the far distance
from high on up.

The swing hangs down
from a floating amorphous
globular mass
of twirling and twisting colors
liquid shimmering organic forms
a slow motion flux
within which I see
red and blue sinews
gold muscles
shimmering roots
even zebra striped christmas bulbs
decorated with leaves
all melting into one another
and the sky.

– matt at shadow of iris

Stolen from Esao Andrews.

This entry was posted on Saturday, December 12th, 2009 at 5:55 am and is filed under poem. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.