Falcone's Crossroads

Where This Meets That

White Walls

I’ve never journaled consistently, but I’ve done my share of dabbling in it.  Over the years, I have bought numerous attractive little journals then managed to write a few pages in each before tossing them out of sight and mind. Finding them later always makes for a pleasant surprise.

I recently unearthed one in which I had written while my bride and I were only dating.  Nestled among happy entries of falling in love, I found a poem I had long forgotten writing.  After a little revising, I thought I’d share it here for any poetry-loving Crossroaders out there.  Hope you enjoy!

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White Walls

Thoughts cascade, alone

As on an empty page.

Images form on white walls

A story with no resolution,

Surging towards oneness

But with a heart like a yolkless egg

Dying from past bleedings and

Empty, for walls limit the free.

Whirlpools pour me towards her

In the garden, where she strolls

Among flowers but also alone

In a grand, bewildering maze.

Behind her eyes, she tries a waltz with a boy

In the corner, finger painting truths

Long forgotten but forever renewed,

Surrendering, and shamefully simple.

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This entry was posted on September 17, 2014 by in L'Avenue d'Artiste and tagged , , .
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