Prosey poetry and free verse.
Unapologetically real recovery.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
The colors swirl, whirl, twirl
around the world, curled, furled.
My love was new, few, true.
Your words were flowery, towering, lowering,
the truth was ne'er to be found, sound, round.
Confusion reigned, swayed, brayed.
Shapes shifted, wafted, rafted
while the moon looked, frisked, docked.