A willow vine in the breeze,
winding
as random prose is wont to do,
cluttering a mind's shape.
See, with an askance glance,
a couple's kiss against the green,
the twine of feelings,
tightening.
Feel,
the love sickness,
slow movement and
the change,
the leaves, twisting
into serif knots,
into
bruised fists
and other
fanciful shapes,
then look away.
@TashPoetry
only to spot another mismatched embrace
straight-backed and diminutive
against the older, stronger leaning
over under its own shaky footing
falling slowly together unable
to help themselves
let alone each other.
#poetry reply
@wordsmith A most worthy reply, and a scene of contrast.
I do miss when poets used to do this. Whole noticeboards and chatrooms of back and forth improv.
Aroha nui,
Tash
@wordsmith I open my brain and stuff falls out, of varying quality.
That is, when my brain decides to pour me out.
I write what I can, because I am never sure if it is the last one.
TashPoetry
wordsmith‽ ⁂