Judith Vriesema Poems
|43.||The Only Thing I Know||4/4/2012|
Comments about Judith Vriesema
Morning rush-hour sounds cavort with newspapers
that fly across cobblestone streets into open doorways.
Subway sounds rush through London's waking dreams.
The scent of coffee hovers in the air while music begins to life-play.
Horses gaze at speeding thoughts.
And roadways of streaming lights paint abstracts across the landscape.
The sky dreams in colours of leaden grey
while windows open to capture the morning's imagination.
Clouds speed across avenues of words,
And papers rustle;
in the wind.
Tea pours into empty cups,
Run into a cold morning when trolls sing the sagas to a golden sea.
Run into the colours of the northern lights when Reykjavik dreams.
Run with your eyes closed into the winter wind when candles glow from windows covered in lace.
Run when truth and storm collide on a cold Icelandic night.
Run into the colours of a dream before infinity awakens you.
Run into the sound your heart makes when the soul finds the answer in a coffee cup in a midnight cafe.
Run to his voice and whisper 'Bl