Floating
These Damn spots are driving me crazy. . .
Watching floaters waltz across my field of vision.
Changing pace and track at will,
on a path preconceived by no one.
With every spot born from the blurry edges of my sight,
I dream,
of endless flight.
Leading me to the future,
that bright white light.
And always, with anchors cast,
my heart’s dreams halt.
My mind drawn back to front and center.
My concentration refocused
on yet another.
Copyright © April 2008 Chris La Cour
Nice poem. The flow is smooth and leads the reader easily to the end. It looks like a vicious circle.
Very well done!
Love this