Where is the line I am looking for?
words play hide and seek.
And the mind just lies there,
still, like a folded sheet.
So I fumble over an intrepid trail,
of those unkempt memories of dawn.
Trampling over the arid land where
yellow flowers are in bloom.
The buzz of the black bumble bee
fighting the gentle sway.
The sting of a strange but familiar note
sends a fire into the veins.
Then nestles quietly like a child,
that lays itself down to sleep.
Weary with hunger crying
and twitching its eyes, in grief.
When awoken by a gentle arm,
that cradles and then feeds.
The mouth, the soul and the mind
that first refused to speak.
Where I found them I do not know,
an army of unsung word adorn.
Lines, lines and more lines in line,
disguised in a smile, gray battalion.
(Again by Cheruba. Please post your honest comments for her. Let us get one more soul to start blogging!)
