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Chapter 1
Grasping an idea is to
preserve a snowflake.
(it doesn’t last)
–
Inspiration
dries up
leaving my riverbed
seared and dry
–
Language slips by me
like quicksilver
or beads of rain
rolling down the car window
–
Images fade
leaving frustrated ghosts
in my mind’s eye
–
Wellsprings evaporate
clouds shift away
if there’s ever been a need for water
it’s today
unikyky25
Cool! Well done!
tesshaiku
Wow. Beautiful.
CJtheReader
Thank you! 🙂