Here

Some words about a place.

Part bleached by the sun like window-facing ticket stubs,

The residue of a moment still exists here, a visible echo,

Amongst the pebbles and the cracks.

Like tossing sand to feel it’s weight,

All the moments spent here suspended in saline air,

Before gravity arcs them back to the earth. 

Reviews

[Max Watt]

This short poem is saturated in metaphors, imagery and depth. Some of which is unusual such as the window facing ticket stubs, which somehow manages to halt my mind with its non-conventional approach. It plays with ambiguity to the point of debate and enriches the mind.

Very enjoyable! Keep it up!

*its