Poem for Chap book– Lost Words

Lost Words


Fished, wishing well;

A seemingly bottomless pit of listless resignation

Dreaming of winter strolls in a weak moment


Slim shot a cocktail; entrance to better times

Jostle for a queue,

Anxiety free,

Frolic in frosty meadow,

Brisk and breathing steam clouds into blue skies

Spiking frozen daisy chains, as melting thoughts drip into violet streaked eyelashes


Crisp, high tones, whistling my chilled ears to the bone

Sliding sideways,

Clatter the post

Turning quick to hold on to the ground swelling slipperiness

Parting with past inclinations to take risks

Break the doubting tone of delusion


Smiling at jaw dropping beauty


A time for roots to deepen


December 29th,2014 re write July 2016

Patrick Turner-Lee Copyright 2016


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