Stolen
My fingers rim the rocky face
I cling and clench and try to taste
the pollen.
The more I grasp, the more I grip
the more my tired hands seem to slip
I’m fallen.
I take a breath and let them go
I fall and taste the sweet winds blow
me stolen.
Comments
Sat 16th May 2015 02:32
Again, just love the sparseness of the words, the leaving some of the work for the reader to do x
Travis Brow
Fri 15th May 2015 15:30
I like this Natalie; the 'en' endings of each verse work well but I think it needs a little tightening up, only a little bit though.
If you wish to post a comment you must login.
Preeti Sinha
Sat 16th May 2015 08:40
Natalie, you mix pathos with sass and vulnerability and create beauty...