Writing Poetry (my digital music composition)
A page of hand-written poetry,
this magic flying carpet
for my exploring thoughts,
rests now upon sand coloured sheets.
Laden with cherished treasures
from adventures ‘midst Life’s Beauty
of ethereal worlds I sought,
it rests on shifting landscape bed.
Layered blankets drawn back
in folds and ripples feel
like sun-hot desert dunes.
Beneath these dunes my body stirs
where satin gold meets sand beige
merging fuzzy mirages
of shadowed brown and red.
There, at bed’s horizon,
a higher turn back mountain
too hot for weary feet
now guards unwritten pages.
Shall I stretch across these dunes
to claim another page?
Shelley Wilson
January, 2013
May your Spirit shine brightly, Shelley
Flowerpoet 
You must be logged in to post a comment.