Acidic Breeze

Acidic Breeze,

I feel the breeze blow over me,

I speak not of wind,

Not the wind as we have known it,

In the Winter,

In the Storm.

I feel now the breeze of time,

I speak of its etching passions, 

Of ever changing of motion,

in Directions,

Untold,

It blows me across the plain,

from young boy to sapling tree,

surely, 

soon to glowing ember,

I hear it speak of blowing out the wick.

And then,

dispersing my memory,

unrelenting, 

into space itself.

Thomas Poe

December 30th 2019

another wave washed over me

fully I feel 

foam and blue and wonder

Time cant see itself, else it might stop a moment and consider 

what lies behind and what lies ahead.