Arizona Highway
Your ghost walks on the horizon of my
shaken soul.
Visions of childhood before
me, the mirage on the highway, my
creativity flows.
The clouds, soft pillars of my tears,
harbor tender yester-years
of loves severed afterglow.
The tides of life
I ride, the darkness of its undertows,
the glassened smoothness where I still
fly with the
sudden grace of the eagles soul,
hovers over the the mountains aimless of where to go
from here. So many seeds of wild
grass like love still grows.
Flowering cactus caresses the pain & beauty of love
that has flown.
--Sheryl Minter