orgami's Diaryland Diary

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slain...

the pool is filling with
wind
touching it with its fingers
invisible and cold

raindrops
are deepening
the void
as we grow

further and further
into shadows

further into thoughts

machine hum
and a faulty tap
you slept in
places dwelt
and turned
to wisps
falling swift
like wing mists

down crystal motes
Novembers end
like the furlong race
of desperate notes

the broken
lost and lonely
forgotten....

2:48 p.m. - 2013-09-11

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