A frail bookworm studied the rules of passing
on the solid yellow lines of Whimsworth and Third,
honey brown hair denying natural law
as winds moved ahead without a caress.
Gnats dashed in and out
of her stale mouth;
not a minute was wasted.
Initials continued to be carved onto birch trees,
stoplights winked at weary drivers,
an elderly bicyclist swerved around her.
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Written 7/21/13 @ 9:09 PM
This is meant to be vague; I had the idea of a more indirect approach... of trying to incorporate only imagery of one scene in my mind to release emotions. So everything is between the lines. Every line I put there has significance but I thought this would be creative for me and a different style, and is able to be interpreted how you wish! Thanks for reading
