Tuesday 21 February 2012

One morning, lost, he

sits exhausted in an airport
hoping for a pretty sky;
hearing words from nations’ update,
jumble into purple sky.

Every word intends connection
- hopeful – casting line and fly.
Once outspoken, lost in motion,
kisses in a pretty sky.

3 comments:

  1. Love alone is ever-renewing and can penetrate into the implicit. Write, write, write. Regards.

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  2. I like it John, very evocative, smooth.

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