Weary eyes that blink

williamson-p06-07-150Alice diary pagepagefromAliceWilliamson’sdiary


Here is a poem I wrote fourteen years ago:

Stray page found in the bottom of the trunk


Brittle yellow paper

rattles in my hand.

Song about the roadway

tarnished by the land

where heat meets sand;

I cannot find the shaper.


Writing’s like a window

roiling with dull sheen.

Watching at the threshold,

child I might have been

bends her back to glean

footmarks from the shadow.


Woodworker and learner

scallop, shred and shrink

sawdust, resin, russet,

weary eyes that blink,

leading me to think

better of the sterner.


Stumbling on the shaper,

not the one I seek,

sharpens breath to shorter,

eyebrows rise to peak,

gulping as I speak

words from yellowed paper.




<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/blink/”>Blink</a&gt;


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s