I've lost my knack somewhere along the hours of the day, and I fear I won't get it back.
Give me the words to say what I cannot.
20090119
.the.frost.less.taken.
a blinking light between your house and mine
a lost beacon
meekly whispering to wandering eyes
filtering the degrading white of snow
from the grey skin of the road exposed
by steel coffins careening through the night
Two thin tires, not unlike spoked pizza slicers, crunch and slide. A sharp intake of cold air as the rider does gimble and gyre, so to speak, not knowing whether he'll land on ground or figure of the icy, concretey lattice.
But rather, onto a fallen star, or at the very least, upon further observation, a silicon gelled body encasing 5 LED lights, serendipitously illuminating the way home.
a lost beacon
meekly whispering to wandering eyes
filtering the degrading white of snow
from the grey skin of the road exposed
by steel coffins careening through the night
Two thin tires, not unlike spoked pizza slicers, crunch and slide. A sharp intake of cold air as the rider does gimble and gyre, so to speak, not knowing whether he'll land on ground or figure of the icy, concretey lattice.
But rather, onto a fallen star, or at the very least, upon further observation, a silicon gelled body encasing 5 LED lights, serendipitously illuminating the way home.
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