Lunar shadows, dapple darkened highways,
in negative wonder.
Black shapes bob, rippling the glassy calm,
gently waving the laps.
Ray LaMontagne is leaving New York,
bringing his soul to me.
A lover’s message, lights the cabin
and my heart flies to her.
The intermittent white line keeps time;
She loves me, she loves me not,
She loves me, she loves me not……..
Comments
luigi_pagano | March 19, 2011 - 10:48
A very effective, well crafted poem, Chris.
SundaysChild | March 19, 2011 - 16:12
Very good, much enjoyed.
threeleafshamrock | March 27, 2011 - 11:41
Thank you Luigi, much appreciated
Chris ;)
threeleafshamrock | March 27, 2011 - 11:42
Thank you SC, glad you enjoyed...
Chris ;)