Lie upon stiff
brown grass.
Watching,
still blue waves
kissing rocks
they do smash..
While
in the slow,
ticking of time..
We attempt to
write, sickly, stinky
bad rhymes…
Floating words
metaphorically
honestly observed
frozen thoughts
hidden history..
Written silently
in-between
every bad, line…
Sitting on dead
grass,
one eye blind…..
Des vagues de temps
