Sunday, April 1, 2012

THIS IS A POEM

       Surfing through the golden wall,
sunday breakfast the morning fall
maybe its just time
maybe I can't learn
the unmistaken doubt upon me
on which I bide my turn
relying solely on my crooked brow
I jump upon the slowed crane
basking in the morning dew
for which I never came
this poem does not make much sense
but matters not the time it took
for each letter I place in feeling sense
upon you gaze another look!!!!

No comments:

Post a Comment