the out of focus
leanings of louise
and the call of a sky turned crooked
on a day that grows dark like any other
the sun always rises
the sun always rises
the sun always rises
she hears the whispers in the leaves of the tall poplar trees
she has blisters from planting possibility
she is a storm raging gales of regret
she is silent and patient and sometimes
she bends
ever so slightly
towards a house
filled with reflection
and polished
glass
.
.
.
May 24th, 2016 at 10:34 am
That’s a great mantra from leaning Louise … the sun always rises.
May 26th, 2016 at 4:34 pm
Sweet and ambiguous. Liked very much.