on the open plain
I looked in the rear view mirror
at the spread of late summer disappearing
checked my speed
no hurry.
ahead an unknown season
with promises dawning
horizons sensed
too real for a dream
she would be waiting
off the greyhound
at Galveston
with sculpted hips
small hands
a feast of inward delights
my speed increased
but the hills spread out
shrugged their shoulders
as I flicked out a camel
and ignored the past.
This poem, to me, reads as though it takes place in a dream despite the line which seems to say it is too real to be so. I have had some very realistic dreams though so perhaps that's just me. I enjoyed reading it, thanks.
<Deleted User> (13762)
Tue 29th Sep 2015 20:33
my kinda poem Ray - thumbs up from this high plains drifter all the way.
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Martin Elder
Wed 30th Sep 2015 14:45
I love the way that this character is leaving it all behind and thinking about what's to come. Nice one