specs-42797_960_720Without My Glasses
By Henri Whitehead

Without my glasses,
The distinctive lines drawn
By our world’s creator
Are no more than
Drops of color in the distance.

The concrete, scientific rules
That instruct the sun to set for the evening
Turn to abstract, and
Empty lines are filled with
My imagination.

The nightmarish grey blobs
That occasionally fly pass my position
On the lonely hill
Next to the rural road
Are transformed.

The silver clad knights
Race to conquer
The monstrous red dragon,
Laying its wrath of orange fire
On the horizon.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s