Unforgiving sun driving orange-yellow blades into the asphalt

The black tar clutches at each foot fall

Sweat trickles down his glass-smooth exterior

The road coagulates and snares him

He hurtles forward toward shatteringness

Until a multitude of hands collect around him and jerk him upright

Their touch washes away his icy prison until there is only flesh on flesh

He is forced to stand upright and sees her ahead of him

Her hand brushes at her chestnut ribbons of hair tipped with flax

He lifts his face to the comforting breeze rustling the aspen

Her dusky green lovely eyes face forward

And he longs for her turned head and beckoning glance

She motions him to sit at her left

And he gently holds her hand

Through tomorrow

This entry was posted in Poetry by bgm1969. Bookmark the permalink.

About bgm1969

This blog is updated by a guy who’s overweight, silly, Liberal, spiritual rather than religious, infatuated with beauty and grace, musically blessed, and always changing.

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