Friday, August 05, 2011


... from Blue

A night, passes and then a day.
The harsh stinging sun burns his skin.
His lips are cracked, like a dried lake bed.
On this little plank he drifts.

Another dawn breaks and brings with it a sliver of green
On this little plank he drifts
With the current he drifts
Past the island he drifts.....

No comments: