till I own it

till I own it

A Poem by wolfshrew

my best times occur during the washing period;
while I soak long till the dirt does leave me,
like it was never there to begin with.

listening to a French song, that I cannot decipher-
"On ne pense à rien, malgré ses blessures",
I swirl water below my body to a merciless siren's call.
I am the giant in her storm.

je t'aime
je t'aime
je t'aime

If a speck of dirt does lie beneath my feet,
I feel it's presence like a boulder.

I sit upon it just to cry and straddle till I own it.

© 2012 wolfshrew


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"One thinks of nothing" or "One does not think of nothing"?
Would that washing removed more than just dirt. A lovely piece.

Posted 12 Years Ago


always till we own it

Posted 12 Years Ago



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Added on March 7, 2012
Last Updated on March 7, 2012

Author

wolfshrew
wolfshrew

Portland, IA



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