Trapped from all sides.
Distant from realism.
Apart from tranquillity of mind.
Far from the malleable wind
that blows your delicate tresses affectionately.
Away from the shrieks of sorrow
into the firmament of isolation
where the chivalrous of men oscillate at their feet.
You can't sense or apprehend
stir or discourse.
As the world stills
in front of the naked eye
the tides crash against the rocks
sending shivers against your spine.
Zeba!
ReplyDeleteYOu are sooo good at this poetry thing! I really like the addition of the picture. It adds to the mood of your words.