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The lines of times blur Yellow, switch sienna then black, Blending days into hours Sending the nightmares away,
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Always they return to the past Like that flat faced bat Under the rafters of the pagoda As creatures of night there roost,
Such lines cross like tracks or roads Known to lead to an underground Leyline vortex for March hares Or sullen coyotes deeper dens.
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A lifelong poet, essayist, writing articles and fiction shorts. Mainly, I write poetry and make essays about general life, expressing feelings or ideas.
NicheLess is a publication that caters to any niche or style of writing allowing for a wide range of subjects and genres. We want all writers to have the opportunity to be able to share their articles regardless of their writing topic.
Very well written and descriptive of how lines get blurred from a bright color to dark and comparing it to the past, bats and other creatures and lines crossing like tracks or roads.
