Wednesday 21 February 2018

Frantic Static

The emptiness calls
Echoes rebound off these walls
Filtered through background static
Of conversations gone frantic

The Visions swirl just below
Of monet paintings on show
Lost little lady admist the crowd
Head tilted – slightly bowed

The air escapes hot and fast
Breath in, breath out -- at last
My butterfly mind starts to wander

As the monets begin to maunder

Ghost