|
 |
 |
 |
| Sheaves of Grass **A Collection of Poems |
| by K. Violet * 2002 |
| The old woman limps along the worn trail, speckled with sleeping flowers, her gnarled hand tight on her stick. There is a secret burning just out of reach, something she was supposed to be doing, itching at her memory. Damn feeble mind! Perhaps it is in her journey that the puzzle will be understood, scratched out by her torn moccasins from the undersurface of what seems to be blocking the path of knowledge she so desperately seeks this dawn. |
| Copyright (1998, 1999, 2000, 2002) poetrykk/Sheaves of Grass Any questions regarding this site or its activity is welcome, email me at poetrykk@yahoo.com |
 |
| Along the Trail |
 |
 |