Saturday, December 03, 2005

days rubbed raw

there are those days
when my life separates
into moments.

tiny grains of the past
thoughts of a future that
have the feel of sand rubbed

between my thumb and forefinger
each small moment rough
wearing away to a raw place

graceless and pointless rubbing
days, overflowing with
castles of sand.
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3 comments:

Jonathan Barnes said...

If this piece is any indication, maybe not so graceless...

9:05 PM
Sherry Pasquarello said...

thank you much. i am so happy that you read and commented. i look for imput , for reactions. yours helps.

7:43 AM
Sherry Pasquarello said...

thanks so much for letting me know your thoughts. it helps that you also said that you visualize. people read poems or view a painting or sculpture differently. some poets that do a lot of readings for the public tend to write pieces that are meant to be spoken. they are better listened to than read, some can write for both listeners and readers. i tend to write for readers. i am not a good public speaker, get very nervous in crowds. i thank you for your time and comments. they do help.

11:19 AM

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