I dream of becoming the linen sheets hung in the wind,
Basking in the warm sun of a spring that promises summer
With words that taste like honey and have no shelf life.
.
I dream of what it would be like for the wind to fill me,
To slip into every pore I possess and make me clean
With the smell of dandelions and daisies and blue skies.
.
I dream of the storm on the horizon and rushing hands
Plucking me from my best day with a sense of urgency
Because to be hung on a clothesline is to be loved.
.
It is to be given to the sky, handed over to sunlight.
It is to be embraced by white clouds and southern winds.
And I dream of being hung on the clothesline like a bed sheet.
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Shadowed souls, cursed magic, poetry that tangles itself in your soul and yanks out the ugly darkness from within. Maybe there's something broken in me, but it's in you too.
Ah, also:
Tiktok/Insta: harbingerofsnake
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Comments (8)
So beautiful! My first association when I think about linen would be that it's so mundane, but you made it into a work of art. It feels so light and effortless!
This was stunning! I felt like I could smell the words rather than just reading them. Awesome.
This felt sooo blissful. Very different from your usual dark and intense stuff. Loved your poem!
Fantastic
Very wonderfully written! Just beautiful!
This was just imagery decadence! Loved every line! Beautifully written, Silver!
This is beautiful.
Oh to be so wild and free! Wonderful poem!