Sunday, December 13, 2015

Sunday Writings


By: Christopher Edwin Breaux


Could this be earth, could this be light

 Does this mean everything’s going to be alright?

 One look out my window there's trees talking like people.


 I dreamt of storms, I dreamt of sound

 I dreamt of gravity keeping us around

 I slept in the darkness it was lonely and it was silent


 What is this love,

 I don't feel the same

 Don't believe what this is,

 could be given a name

 I awoke,

 you there chasing planets on my forehead


 But I forget 23 like I forget 17

 And I forget my first love, like you forget a day dream

 And what of all my wild friends,

 and the times I've had with them

 Will all fade to grey soon

 like the TV station.

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