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Slowly
April 22, 2011
The wistful harp strummed.
A sorrow melody.
That waded through my heart,
On a wooden rowboat.
The golden harp shed a tear.
A crystal reflection of myself.
Hit the shining pond,
Disturb the peace.
Silky water slips over,
The sharp jagged rocks.
Smoothing them out,
Slowly.
My patience for being lost,
Is lost itself.
The peace and cool serenity.
Forever I am here.
I cannot stand the nothingness.
Days and months roll by,
Slowly like the rocks.
Slowly like my soul.
© Jack B., Central City, KY
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