Showing posts with label circles are always full - or else they wouldn't be circles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label circles are always full - or else they wouldn't be circles. Show all posts

let's go round again. . .

.
round, like a circle in a spiral
.

like a wheel within a wheel
.


never ending or beginning

.
.
on an ever-spinning reel


like a snowball down a mountain
.

.
or a carnival balloon
.
.
like a carousel that's turning
.
. .
running rings around the moon.
.

like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face .

.
and the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
.
.
like the circles that you find
.

in the windmills of your mind. . .
like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own

.
.
down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone
.
.
like a door that keeps revolving

.

in a half-forgotten dream
.

.
or the ripples from a pebble
.
.
someone tosses in a stream
.
.

like a clock whose hands are sweeping
.
.
past the minutes of its face
.

.

and the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
.
.

like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind
.
.
keys that jingle in your pocket
.
.
words that jangle in your head
.

why did summer go so quickly? was it something that you said?
.

lovers walk along a shore

.
and leave their footprints in the sand
.
.
is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your hand?
.
.
pictures hanging in a hallway
.
.
and the fragment of a song, half-remembered names and faces

.

.

but to whom do they belong?
.
.
when you knew that it was over you were suddenly aware
.

. .
that the autumn leaves were turning to the colour of her hair
.

.
like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
.
.
never ending or beginning

.

on an ever-spinning reel
.

.
as the images unwind
.

.
like the circles that you find
.
.
in the windmills
of your mind