Making my way down a loose metal road,
Rocks twist and melt into the blood that seeps from summertime grazes,
And I stand straight (dreaming of blue skies)
Sun boils through the red sky,
So I sit (writing the legends of my endless winter)
Stop.Read signs.Check map.
Take a deep breath and savour a slice of the sea,
Carried on the breeze,
Which just blows hair in my face,
And dust in my eyes.
And still wait with dirty bare feet for a change from above.
2001 Trout &