
Phase Two (048)
Aug 24, 2017 · 1 min read
Two blisters, and sore joints.
The behemoth inched forward.
It’s weight made more
by its awkward framing.
I persevered
chipping away at its surface.
Coats of pigment will adorn its visage.
Transformed,
this will be seen,
and seen,
and seen,
and now is not the time to shop it around, but a time to fantasize.
The next big step has my foot itching.
A hundred corners await their turn.
Poem number 048 of 365.
You can read more entries from this series here.
