Wednesday, 17 January 2007

Liberty


Dry sand eats your bare feet
Scratches your heals
Water washes away fragments of your skin
Echoes the fumbling of toes
Under cover

A in- between zone
Placed
Deliberately
By no one
You’re life is a wobbling bowl of seawater
That splashes against distant rocks
Where nobody feels hurt

I guess the things that are close
Are far

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Dette er veldig interessant.
Du er flink.