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Sunday, April 10, 2016

The Statue

Here, within the softness
of the snowfall,
its allure may find me,
catch hold of me,
and gradually freeze my soul
into stone

There is innocence in the eyes,
my hunger almost mistakes it
for snowflakes
as white as the page
that begs to be
despoiled with a pen

I long to let go of
all cause for concern
and allow such hypnotic beauty
to consume me
so that I might soar
past the constrictions
of all things wasted

And land
within a smile,
a dusted white
bone-hard statue,
its thoughts

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