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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
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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