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. . . Old, Rocky Ledge

Kenneth has a taste for abstract/prose poetry as well as the comical side of life. 23-years of writing for a newspaper has served him well.

Fritzi Brunette.

Fritzi Brunette.

I stand, again, one of many times, old, rocky ledge

High, dangers in song. I finally heard them all.

Looking at breath. No past life, no safe haven or hedge.

She's only a glimpse away--old, rocky ledge.

Years you and I talked when I soaked your tears

Days? Nights? All dim. Just you, old, rocky ledge.

She touched me without knowing my fears

Days? Nights? Dreams, all soul still appears.

She's as young as her girlish years are now

Glimpsing, pretending, two roads ride fine.

Thinking, crying, laughing at letters written

Brunette hair flashes; butterfly eyelashes

Float o'er my corpse with serpent bitten.

Old, rocky ledge, I now see her door.

She peeks at time itself in mazed fashioned time.

Old, rocky ledge, I stand, should I move more?

Her eyes of jade, an angel He surely made

Old, rocky ledge--do I open her door?

I still miss her when day has turned life's page

And see her laughing, that sparkle of time

We walked, talked of love and her lovely rhyme.

Old, rocky ledge, should I jump now with age?

Tell me, old, rocky ledge, what should I do?

Leave my haven, fall from heaven and live?

Should I open her door--where eyesight grew

Old, rocky ledge, I'm scared with no gem to give.

Old, rocky ledge, one step is one too many

Brunette beauty, should you now be mine?

I can't run for my days are dim . . .

I can't reach for my hopes are slim . . .

Still,, old, rocky ledge, I stand . . .

Within reach of her one hand . . .

I touch brunette strand . . .

Farewell, old, rocky ledge . . .

I'm stepping, hoping, she will catch my hand.

© 2017 Kenneth Avery

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