January 2010
2 posts
There are days
when a cold wind
blows through the ribs,
on the wind is the past
regrets, failures, missed connections.
The world becomes cold
like a stone at night,
the soul’s feather turns
weakly in the breeze.
For a generation with a short attention span and multiple tabs open on its browser, don’t you think, as far as literature goes, that poetry is the way to go?