Beyond Sense

I cannot write of what I see:

a three in one, Synedoche.

I will not tell all that I know:

an epic story from the Flow.

Impossible to taste or touch

or breathe one scent of much too much,

the tender movement from above

that flutters inward like a dove.

And in the breeze, that vital air,

no ear can hear the freshness there.

Never can it be contained,

imprisoned in a dream maintained

by wistful longing for a time,

then captured by a simple rhyme.

No poem worthy, nor a song:

Desire of a true heart strong . . .


Photography and Text © 2017, Timothy Waugh