Board the box that won't come back
Hear the wheels go rat tat tap Toward the front you go to see Inside the mind that can't go free Forward the thoughts, forward you go Forward the box until it slows In the end you make it there Just to see it is despair Poem by Thomas Armstrong
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I can see the bleak echoing of light
The shimmers that pulsates the walls A flicker to chase the monsters My own soul still inside The light I shall protect |
Tom(Mom) whicheverPoetry is art. Poetry is life. Poetry is whatever comes out of my head...at night. Archives
July 2018
My little corner of words |