Thoughts are drunk on lemonade
the well is deep, as time drifts,
freedom to reminisce, words to spin
sorting and processing
musings whirl out the door,
another day breeches
dragging visions, as leaves fall,
the river is high, so am I
every layer has a different meaning,
I have no reason to be afraid
I have seen how light flickers,
from the eyes of springtime
the eyes of summer, the eyes of autumn
to the eyes of winter; laughter sizzling,
the ebb and flow of memory
richoceting from every direction,
revolving doors of feeling
trickling through skin and bone.
PICTURE by Keith Garrow.
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