Sands

gentle sands falling
silently through my fingertips,
blowing dandelion style in the
swaying
breeze from tomorrow;
the hourglass tips
rocking back and forth and
here
i
am,
fumbling around blurred edges,
pressing smeared fingertips against
the lining of my own charade.
i am pantomiming
with all the might i possess
but
you won't understand and
sleep is nigh upon me.

by Zoe Nyght

Comments (3)

gentle sands falling silently through my fingertips, blowing dandelion style in the swaying breeze from tomorrow; the hourglass tips I loved this poem, especially the above wordings...
haunting. the mood is hypnotizing
Beautiful images. I love your style Chrissie