Spinning round and round,
Across the stage.
I feel like wind on summers eve.
Unlocking something deep in me.
Seeing who I can be.
A shine surface begs my eye,
Turning me around in a lie.
Plumb and round,
Feeling like a whale underground.
And if that wasn’t enough,
This body betrays,
And wind I am no more.
Instead, I’ve become like and angry cloud
With hail forming and popping out.
Storming, raging, panting in pain
And hoping for someone to call my name.
Call it loud and clear
Like smooth spring rain.
Encircling around
To support the ever lasting cycle
Of my body and brain.
About the Creator
Lane Burns
I am a Poet and an inspiring short story, one day novel writer.
I like to write in free verse mostly, but am heavily inspired by Emily Dickenson, and tend to create my own rules and ideas as well.
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