Poem -

4:20

author
Charles Gorsch

As the alarm on my watch rings,

the bird starts to sing,

there is a tale to be told,

by the wise and the old,

we all grow in our own way,

but these memories stay,

we light a jay,

and we fly away,

in our daydreams,

we break our strings,

no more weight,

this is our true fate.

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Views: 
359
Rating:
Total votes: 0
Tags: 
Dreams Fate Travel
Poetry Genre: 
Nonsense
Topic: 
The Soul
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COSMOFUNNEL Team's pictureCOSMOFUNNEL Team 9 years ago

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