Seven A. M.

When the last breath of fog lingers still in the air

and the sun starts to brighten the land everywhere

I want the clock to be stopped

and the mountains to stare.

 

 

copyright 2014

Advertisements
This entry was posted in modern poetry, poetry, Uncategorized 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