By: Dennis Greene

State: WA

Country: Australia

Time Out

Making a choice
he waited for the call,
the bike up on
its stand,
and with a cigarette
between his lips,
he drew the pale smoke in
and listened to the sound
of metal cooling.

“I am a fool”
he whispered,
as the pale smoke
became rivulets
and tendrils tried
and tied themselves in knots
that could not slide in tight,
being nebulous.

“There is no time this time”
he thought,
and starting up the bike
he rode away.

And then they came
and filled the clearing
with the sound
of children laughing,
and of bells being rung
in fields on autumn days,

so far away

that nobody could hear them
till they found
and filled the hollows
in the sand
made by the stand

before he changed
his mind
and took the bike away.



Copyright © Dennis Greene 2000


Send private comments to author: dennisg@iinet.net.au

Learn more about author at: http://members.networx.net.au/~dennisg/


Comments: Mysterious magic.

Name: phattkat


Comments: Yes, quite. It's a little like the shadow of a rainbow lighting up your private version of eternity as it shatters quietly into reality.

Name: RhymeMaster
EMail: rhymer01@thewritersnook.com


Comments: my you are tres diverse monsieur vert-

Name: val magnuson
EMail: valmagnuson@poetsporch.com


Comments: I saw this poem on old newsreel footage, somewhere back in time. Or was it a dream?

Name: phattkat


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