Saturday, May 22, 2010

The Axis Travellers.

Snow globe turning like a storm in a hand
Over contoured fingers like a boulder on land.
Interior cyclical waves slide like tides on wet sand,
And we're carried in a vessel cradled at sea.
Each creeping wave that crawls up the walls
Changes rythm and speed as it rises and falls,
And we're caught in a snow globe of perpetual squalls
But cradled and safe and sleeping we'll be.

1 comment:

  1. Good poem, you truly are wonderful with meter.