#poetry
Friction Field
The wind, on this blue night,
is howling like a banshee,
sad voices carried on it.
It's the kind of night
when all your sorrows
come back to haunt you.
Friction Field
The wind, on this blue night,
is howling like a banshee,
sad voices carried on it.
It's the kind of night
when all your sorrows
come back to haunt you.
The electricity in the air
is a palpable thing,
an element so strong
your skin prickles
with the unrelenting
friction of those atoms.
I feel you especially.
Your presence swirls
in those atoms,
rubbing relentlessly
across my skin,
across my soul.
is a palpable thing,
an element so strong
your skin prickles
with the unrelenting
friction of those atoms.
I feel you especially.
Your presence swirls
in those atoms,
rubbing relentlessly
across my skin,
across my soul.
I won’t sleep tonight,
not as long as that wind persists.
I’ll lie in bed like a prisoner in a cell.
And carried by that wind,
your electrical arms embrace me.
© 2012 RC deWinter
Published in IndiesScribe, November 2013
#Art: Evening Wind, Edward Hopper 1921
not as long as that wind persists.
I’ll lie in bed like a prisoner in a cell.
And carried by that wind,
your electrical arms embrace me.
© 2012 RC deWinter
Published in IndiesScribe, November 2013
#Art: Evening Wind, Edward Hopper 1921
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