Image for the poem The Turn

The Turn


I wish to sink my toes
in the turn, and folds of soil

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.


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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