French Transition
In ice frocks
distance marches,
frog-stepped
down frosted boulevards.
This is a landscape
of frozen trees
salt-rimmed to sky
silence bound.
A lure to iris
floating in white,
swirled particles,
stretch limousine ride
through Napoleon's vision
where all roads
lead to Paris.
distance marches,
frog-stepped
down frosted boulevards.
This is a landscape
of frozen trees
salt-rimmed to sky
silence bound.
A lure to iris
floating in white,
swirled particles,
stretch limousine ride
through Napoleon's vision
where all roads
lead to Paris.
posted by burning moon at 12:50 PM
2 Comments:
Hey kid, love the language in this
"salt-rimmed to sky"
"A lure to iris "
so rich.
Hope life is good in the land *smile*
Thanks. Yep, all is good. Applying for jobs left right and centre. I hate stepping out of my comfort zone, so feeling quite tense about that, but it's all for the best in the long run.
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