after the climb
I rest
inhaling indigo
of cloudless skies
exhaling all but my soul
the sun is an ocean
wrapping me lukewarm
politely peeling the pieces
fears flaking
sorrows shedding
I lay them out
stone cold on the mesa
to wilt and wither
A “quadrille” consists of 44 words, not including the title. It is a favourite form over at dVerse Poets Pub. This week we are including the word “peel”. I am pleased to be your host. Feel free to join in. Doors open at 3 p.m.
mishunderstood 