Over the Spree

Cold distances howl like the heart,
watching the clock as it spins.

Time continues to pass with the
roar of the restless black roads,

echoes walking down the side,
ardent as the shivering stars.

Forms become plans and dreams
and heavy breath that hangs

in the air as if a reminder,
taunting the fire kept inside,

drawing out the desire found
on a bridge over frozen river.

Slow steps continue without change,
carrying their desperate hope.

Cold distances howl like the heart,
watching the lock as it spins.

over-the-spree

Advertisements

So, what do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s