Violet voices composed of the purple haze
Lingering in the fragile space
Between virgin snow
And dawn’s first light.
Not quite ice in your arctic gaze
Stoic and solid
The cloudless sky
Reflected on tranquil water.
Jagged shards in spilt sarcasm
Barely hiding their stained glass edges
Remnants of shattered faith
Held in hopes of one day mending.
I wrote this while driving 17 hours straight from CO to CA… guess the open road made me nostalgic.