July 19

When I arrive at the river something
akin to vanity breaks over me,
the briars between us, the biker

passing. I’m near the sustenance
my naive brain believes will feed me,
only a ravine between me and bravery.

Advertisements

Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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