Sunday, February 23, 2014

Train ride

Hundreds of love poems later, 
and beauty still ties my tongue 
into a tripwire my words stumble 

Some of them fall gracefully 
into a novel of romance and others 
die and reincarnate as regret too 
many times to count. 

My heart has been penning it for 
years now. Inside a castle of silence 
with a chariot of hope outside waiting 
on a princess to make my lap her royal 

Just the other day I seen one, her 
skin was a pond of olive I could see 
my reflection in with a backdrop of sky 
that brought out the color in her eyes 
like the sun. 

Like...if she laid on a bed of desert sand 
she would disappear and disembody the 
motherland from her mothers land. 

Thats how arabian princess I imagine
her to be. But I could be wrong. 
She may be the type of girl that 
sees less than the blind man who 
sat next to her. 

If so, the irony in life is surely mind-boggling. 


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