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Image for the poem The Turn

The Turn

   
   
   
 
I wish to sink my toes  
   
in the turn, and folds of soil  
   
unknown.  
   
   
   
Perhaps, where gravity yields    
   
hinging stones,    
   
and roots are left exposed.  
   
   
   
Where memory hasn't  
   
a glimpse,    
   
to lean against, nor hold.  
   
   
   
Distant, and adrift  
   
as the quiet hush of dawn.  
   
   
   
Will it be a soft, muddied marsh,  
   
heady and thick,    
   
or in a grey October mist?  
   
   
   
This I suffer to know.  
   
   
   
Will there be beauty there,    
   
distilled, and lingering -    
   
Hiding in the allusive turn?  
   
   
   
A place where magnolias bloom,    
   
to mimic the Moon?  
   
   
   
For this place unknown,    
   
I do so long -    
   
to go.  
   
   
   
Wait.  
 
   
Is this truly what I seek?  
   
To place my feet  
   
within the maze of twisting turns,    
   
lit by strange hues of orange.  
   
   
   
Or is it really a need  
   
to climb the crown of foreign ground  
   
merely to breathe the sweet scent of you?
 
   
© 2015 blue angel
Written by blue_angel
Published | Edited 13th Sep 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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