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By Shawn Scott Smith
(Twitter: @ luckycreature
Website: @ luckycreature.com )
The angle of the pen falls swift on paper,
Pieces of the puzzle surrounding ocean dew.
So many hearts can be heard in the wind,
A seagull's gaze upon the multitude of sand.
And I rest my head on your shoulder,
Torches at night following the bellows of children,
The doctor's carriage in rapid heat,
Stiffness falls over the land of pity,
Hot, delicate cinnamon rises from a window.
And I rest my head on your shoulder.
The man in the fine suit speaks in licorice,
The men below chant in automation,
Casual cloth folds over and under,
The lone woman silently screams,
And I rest my head on your shoulder.
Together a chalice and a burden,
Penniless and golden all at once,
Once a river carried blood upriver,
To steal a dream of woven sins.
May I rest my head on your shoulder?
Please?
- Shawn Scott Smith, 2022
About The Author:
Shawn Scott Smith is a writer, and enthusiast.
He lives in Asheville, NC with his wife, Jessica C. White and son Milo.
All of his adventures are documented on his website at luckycreature.com
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