i proceed along
a mind’s dense fog
until its thick footprints drop
down down down
onto a clay street below
like being sold short
half-story residing
in half shadows
the rest eaten for breakfast
twelve hours ago
or trapped within a breath
or quietly misunderstood
lingering patiently behind a
never-developed third eye
connected to a heart
across the street
a little dog yaps
in solid hours
chases passersby
he’s always alone, that one
by mary ann blinkhorn
one never knows what to do
when it doesn’t make sense
laughing with foolish teeth
she follows the skulking mist
until its footprints drop
down, down, down
onto a clay street
defacing a clay dog
that leaves her heartbroken
belated feet walking
she calls his name
tender fog presiding
protecting her from
bulky truths
telephone booths
big dipper in candid sky
does she resign
or does she fail to do so?
she holds out an apple
embracing the star within
by mary ann blinkhorn
Written for Three Word Wednesday at: http://www.threewordwednesday.com/
This week’s words: bulky, mist and resign
mypenandme says, “Thank you kindly for the likes.”
mypenandme 