Tuesday, September 20, 2005

The Tower

The tower, filled with all I need
for the long jouney ahead
also filled with nothing I want
I opted for exile instead
I sit in this great ivory tower
built with my own two hands
Touch the walls, cold and smooth,
immune to the shifitng sands

Sitting here, want for food
but I know that none shall come
Sitting here, want for friends
but I know that none shall come

Alone, candllight plays off seams
of aged volumes long thought lost
I dare not, will not open them
protected by a layer of mildewed frost
I work up the nerve to try the door
but know my craftsmanship well
This portal shall not, cannot budge
My own fingers worked the spell

Sitting here, want for smoke
but I know that none shall come
Sitting here want for drink
but I know that none shall come

I look to the small single window
watch the grey-black clouds roll by
I could jump, the fear is too great
this tower I built too high
Unwillingly, I resign myself
back to the task at hand
Here in my ivory tower
Immune to the shifting sand

Ed Kidhardt

10:09 AM

3 Comments:

Blogger Couples Real Help said...

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10:29 AM  
Blogger Erin said...

The rhymes here are subtle, not forced as I often find - and the effect of the scheme is to make this feel woven. Nicely done!

1:37 PM  
Blogger Renee Wagemans said...

Nice poem
thanks I found you through Dan Weasel

5:18 PM  

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