Survivors

Survivors

Friday, September 29, 2017

Small Soliloquy


©  2017 Steve King
All rights reserved


The blind view
and that hot rain—
each new storm
a sudden death,
soon again.

The recalculation
of every old move:
merely an echo,
a hard refrain.

The world will turn.
I cannot say
where true horizons fall.

Light to night,
night upon light,
every age must scribe its own,
though some stand everywhere alone.


A new poem for Friday 55 with Joy Jones
http://versiscape-lifesentences.blogspot.com/