Frivolously frolic
Filtered fields
Fiery flames flinging fancy fans
between framed veins, weddings and fame.
There’s a full moon.
He has his fill, drinking in
the fallen Sun’s fraying rays.
Flying by.
Time is flying by.
Feathers are falling free of flapping wings flying westward to no place fair.
Fingering our way, flicking away flicks and flecks of fearless, flighty fighters and outstretched hands.
Finger and feel our way through it all, past the thorns and past the frying brain cells.
Feel and see what’s on the other side, before night fades to day and we’re fleeing the scene again.




Leave a reply to Woodsy Cancel reply