The Minutes: A Poem
Walking, slowly, deftly, soundly,
Caressing my feet is the earth,
The foundation for the path,
A long and winding road,
Sometimes rocky, so my toes are coarse,
But still curling in anticipation,
For every footstep rising and falling,
A fleeting mark upon the ground,
The wind moves it swiftly with rhythm,
To the beat of my heart,
Both ticking off the moments,
Like a clock measuring the sands of time.
More Poetry by Ebower
- Sigh: A Poem
The night is quiet yet filled with longing and imagination.
- Mystified: A Poem
Reflection brings clarity in a world of broken dreams.
- Midnight Musing: A Poem
A girl feels alone in the city as she wishes for her love in this romantic, imaginative poem.
- Real Love: A Poem
Fairy tales are fake. True love is real.