Saturday, October 25, 2014

A few grains of salt


A few grains of salt, a dash of memory;
here are my bones, here what I meant to be;
flowered so well, as rivers would stones;
grave is my halt, and listen without;
to laughter, the cry left of me.



6 comments:

Jan said...

The grave...where life ends as we know it.
Or does it?

Words for thought, William~

William Michaelian said...

Or grave, as in serious.... Either way, may we never jump to sad conclusions. Thank you, Jan.

Jan said...

Oops...sorry. My mistake, William~

William Michaelian said...

No mistake at all, Jan. Just another way of looking at it. In a way, I suppose, I meant both. Ah, words....

Jonathan Chant said...

A fine recipe William.

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Jonathan....