Author Information
Blade Of Grass
Folder:
The Rushing Stream of Desires
Under the flesh, under the skin,
lies the dampness; the gentle sin.
The tragic gripping of the hand,
wanting to grab....
wanting to hold...
To hold the blade of grass
and to let
the sensation of life
slip inside the shell.
The beach, where pretty girls
lie in rows upon their towels.
Men of hope prance like
glittering diamonds
around the ladies.
Jostling each other in
a vain attempt to
grab attention.
to hold life...
It is like a cancer growing
under the skin, unseen but
never the less
well known.
Not to be ignored.
Softly whimper resignation.
Softly add distance to
the situation.
Blade of grass, either cut
or fall, but do not
do nothing.
The beach, now at sunset.
Empty sand.
Maybe it remembers the shapes
that danced upon it?
What a beautiful and well
What a beautiful and well crafted write you wrote here!!
Vive le Quebec libre!