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Date Posted: 10:46:29 06/06/01 Wed
Author: P-rock
Subject: Sand

The last of the Blackbird poems,
I sift through my thoughts so gently.
Not wanting to rip the bandage I've just recently placed.
I am more than what I thought I was.
Men and sand fall between the hollowed orb of the hourglass
And eat their own stomachs in pursuit of something to feel.
Reach down and touch me, put two whispering fingers to my lips
And tell me that I'll grow old and dream of all this.
Calm it down...tether me down to the ground
Down...so slow my feet won't make sound,
Slow down...into the earth so I'm bound
As low, as pre-concieved hearts can pound.

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