Ahead

The worn boards

of the foot bridge welcome,

like a host with few guests,

my soles, though muddyThe rope is rough

beneath my soft palms

but soothes

my restless soul,

as the wind gently

rocks me.

 

I fear not.

Anything.

Not this height,

not that unknown

place I am headed

in this now-so-natural

journey.

 

The water flowing

beneath me

is neither stagnant nor rushing

but the perfect speed

for drifting into dreams

 

and harmonizes with the wind

to create a soundscape

that invigorates

my heartbeat,

 

or is it the voice that comes

to my attention,

like a lover softly waking me–

his, just up ahead;

it so benevolently

lures me…

 

IMG_3909.jpg

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

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Ahead

The worn boards

of the foot bridge welcome,

like a host with few guests,

my soles, though muddy.

 

The rope is rough

beneath my soft palms

but soothes

my restless soul,

as the wind gently

rocks me.

 

I fear not.

Anything.

Not this height,

not that unknown

place I am headed

in this now-so-natural

journey.

 

The water flowing

beneath me

is neither stagnant nor rushing

but the perfect speed

for drifting into dreams

 

and harmonizes with the wind

to create a soundscape

that invigorates

my heartbeat,

 

or is it the voice that comes

to my attention,

like a lover softly waking me–

his, just up ahead;

it so benevolently

lures me…

Leave a Reply

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