sands shift

below weary feet
absorbing the coolness
of damp grains
beneath

 

the pillars of an
ancient ruin
rise

broken teeth

a jutting jaw line
sternly set
to expede
the spark of travellers
tracing nerves
of streets

 

there might be time
enough to read
a chapter of
Don Quixote

in the failing light

 

but in the classic sense
I think I’ve had enough

 

StellaR
October 3, 2008