The words were empty sea shells of bare footprints
Walking the shoreline of endless tides of erosion,
Where every day one awoke to walk till sunset pastels
Upon color prints that faded, washed to blank canvas.
The verse singing an empty note so alone, it lay bare
Shattered among dreams in silence so silent screams,
Sharp shards echo inside empty space quivering quill,
Tic Tock breeding scars shrinking among blank verse.
Sounds censored barren terrain haunted in whisper
Whimper sorrows nailing furrowed trenches dusty veins
Bleeding sandstorms abrasive sculptures sandstone faces
Aging alone, hollowed out, caved in eyes, nest eaglets cries.
Looking down on skeletal remains - frozen in place.
David Lester Young 01/17 to 01/20/09©
De-Terminated poet, somewhere in America not on (Mercedes Benz) company time