melissaahowells
522,654 poems read
a thing which has no words
waves go out
and my
breath follows them
waves come in
and my
breath fills up
a balloon
the moistened air
on a dewy forehead
the crashing of repetitive sound
the reeling of white-grey birds
a thing which seems
beyond
words
the gathering of water
froth
foam
a sky and sea are reflecting mirrors
I roam
me and
I
forget myself
the letters come tumbling
later
and with them the realization
I am writing about
an experience
which has no words.
Copyright February 20 2014
ALL RIGHTS AND IDEAS ARE RESERVED BY THIS AUTHOR
Meloo/Melissa A Howells
site copyrighted Tilt-a-World
recalling November 20, 2013
and my
breath follows them
waves come in
and my
breath fills up
a balloon
the moistened air
on a dewy forehead
the crashing of repetitive sound
the reeling of white-grey birds
a thing which seems
beyond
words
the gathering of water
froth
foam
a sky and sea are reflecting mirrors
I roam
me and
I
forget myself
the letters come tumbling
later
and with them the realization
I am writing about
an experience
which has no words.
Copyright February 20 2014
ALL RIGHTS AND IDEAS ARE RESERVED BY THIS AUTHOR
Meloo/Melissa A Howells
site copyrighted Tilt-a-World
recalling November 20, 2013