Care of clouds danced above a wasteland treated by a boy who sang songs that expressed adolescence by an old run down mill who begged for an audience or recognition for such decadent.
He watched as each breath he took loosened the towers setup and the shingles broke apart,
snapped in two and leaped at tortured scenery,
an art,
contused plants and beds of dandelions who slept,
broke upon being met and threw petals right back at nature’s sameness,
a dead storm’s carcass decomposed in the backyard of a rotten plank grow ground.
He sat indecent by a pond,
pitched stones at ducks and ate raw seeds,
laid in sharp weeds and broken skin,
shivered at abrupt winds,
bruised feet cruised warm waters,
he could not swim.
An evasive yet content romance for adventure,
a lonesome poem that wrote out excitement as the pages were written on,
torn out and shredded and then eaten,
scraps discarded above a pier,
ink ran heavy and sunk like stones.
Discovery is an experience that’s most appreciated as one scales hollow trees and leaves and snatches beads of insects for broken jars,
for each wing to escape.
Author notes
It's a poem.
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