Snowshoes in the Sand


If my reflection came easily, it would be built upon mirrored waters.

Bathed in twilight’s meandering sun.

Riding in on a high horse.

Several hands high.

Looking back would be nothing but…

an unconditional, good-bye.

The miles ahead?

An easily read map with routes I could choose or deny.

Yet, contemplation, a plethora of shine and showers, not so simple to define.

Its inventory, a snowshoe in the sand.

Too basic to understand.

Repugnant, regurgitated, bliss.

Straight lines to a closed fist.

The resolution?

A well-rounded, linear, first kiss.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s