Sunday, March 29, 2009

Passing thoughts on a cold morning by the lake


Stood there Staring
At the open skies
Often into myself
The colors changing
Every moment
A splash of red
Hints of the fading blue
Dance of the whites

The naked branches
standing there cold
of trees that were
wonder how old
forgotten souls far away
not one in sight
of dear ones near
solitude and fortunate
ready to rock the world
each day
that particular day