August 11, 2014 by Allen George
I dream of roads,
of miles ahead without a light;
of long grass on a broken shore –
alive in the lim’nal light.
I dream of silence.
No sound about or talking heads –
no radio voice.
Just the pistons’ beat and a mind ajar;
wind swirling in my emptiness.
I dream of smoke,
in fluid motion – beauty transient! –
in form one second,
no memory of its ever present.