Tossing Leaves

An August afternoon

it’s late

A strong breeze soliciting

Mischief

Shaking trees

Tossing leaves

Cotton clouds behave

In a reckless fashion

I hold my breath

A thought wrestles

With a memory

In the archives of

My mind

There are renegades

Time watchers

Time blogs

Those gatekeepers

Of tomorrow’s reality

We measure Time

Yet, never quite appreciate

The subtlety of its essence…

Thatcher Doran

Advertisements

About pmisteil

Hi, my name is Paul though I write under other names like, Thatcher and Paolo, I love literature, art and architecture their passion and drama....the contradictions. The notion of Truth-who is the person behind the mask? Or does it matter! I like long walks and longer conversations over cappuccinos in a cafe with atmosphere and the rest is a journey!
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s