Grip- A Poem

Substance I grab at it…
Then it slips
Quiet and fragile through my fingertips
And onto the floor,
And I find me dazed
Hands cupped scooping together dry sand
That runs like silk away from forming
Away from being
It scatters in the wind
And washes back out to sea
And the parody
So many similar grains
I cannot tell the difference between the ones I started with
And the ones I ended up with
Those that still …..are sliding away

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s