Post by AquarianM on Apr 18, 2005 at 8:00pm
Between Sunbeams...
Cigars are peculiar things,
Most people love the scent and sense of relaxation,
Smokers - the texture in your fingers is warm,
They need air and hate wind,
Burning sideways in a strong breeze.
I lit mine in the underground rail yard,
Climbed up the steps and walked East,
Across the drawbridge over the river,
Straight into the rising sun.
The breeze was slow and gentle today,
Gulls swooping and gliding gracefully,
My sunglasses awash in morning sunlight,
The world fading at the edges.
Entire buildings appear and disappear,
Washed out in golden glare,
People caught faintly at your eye corners,
You wonder if angels travel somewhere there,
Dancing between sunbeams.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 04/15/2004
Most people love the scent and sense of relaxation,
Smokers - the texture in your fingers is warm,
They need air and hate wind,
Burning sideways in a strong breeze.
I lit mine in the underground rail yard,
Climbed up the steps and walked East,
Across the drawbridge over the river,
Straight into the rising sun.
The breeze was slow and gentle today,
Gulls swooping and gliding gracefully,
My sunglasses awash in morning sunlight,
The world fading at the edges.
Entire buildings appear and disappear,
Washed out in golden glare,
People caught faintly at your eye corners,
You wonder if angels travel somewhere there,
Dancing between sunbeams.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 04/15/2004