Crawling The Long Hill


All that's left are her memories, fallen dreams, and such
I lay here on rusted grass weeping, grieving not asking that much.
She was everything in a mirror and my soul flew when she winked
Her name was song, rain was her eyes and foolishly I blinked.

Her dark hair of finely-spun moonbeams lay still
While her alabaster hands ne'er will hold me from the hill.
Still, I wonder. Just wonder why the universe saw her
Robbed me, stabbed me and hid me in a lion's fur.

Guess it spared me a degree of death with pain for coat
Feet for running, her mind dawning and serpents fill her moat.
But darkness seeps easily, quietely with each stolen breath
No feelings left, no home I've cleft and now glare in faces of death.

Somehow in the spanless space of universe I see
And not see while beating, molding a thought of glee.
Hearing a deaf song sang and how the lightning rang
The hailstones pain and death toll clang.

She's quiet now sitting in misty rings
Ruling the sparkles, dragonflies and such things.
While now I crawl up long stony hill so tall
If not finding her, not caring when I fall.

But then my thoughts are drenched in wine
Seizing her eyelash knowing it was mine.
Singing a silent note
Sailing with her in a stealthy boat.


© 2016 Kenneth Avery

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Comments 2 comments

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shanmarie 8 months ago from Texas

This is different than what I usually read from you. You paint quite a dramatic and sad picture here.

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kenneth avery 7 months ago from Hamilton, Alabama Author

Hello, shanmarie,

Okay. First of all, thank you for the sweet comment.

Secondly, you are THE ONLY hubber I have ever told this well-guarded information: I am a dramatically-sad person, but I have learned to hide it well.

And no. This is NOT a joke.

Happy Fourth and write to me anytime.

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    Kenneth Avery1,561 Followers
    1,323 Articles

    Kenneth has a taste for abstract/prose poetry as well as the comical side of life. His 23-years in the newspaper has served him well.

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