Sun setting
Upon still waters;
Fading light of
A mirror’s reflection.

Staring at the stories
Etched upon papyrus made flesh;
Breathing  between joy and pain.

Touching the platinum strands
Hiding within the ebony whiskers;
Thinking about the dusty roads
Revealing the marks of abandoned footprints.

Feeling the evening breeze;
Hearing the wind chimes
Play its last song.

Published by David W. Jones

Writer. Artist. Sleepless Blogger. Wrestling junkie. Comic-Book Nerd. Every moment is a story View all posts by David W. Jones