I pass a yellow trapezoid,
As I run swiftly.
My path is a little drifty,
But I don't seem to mind.
A dragon is flying overhead,
And the number fifteen is tapping its foot.
As a Lamborghini Diablo passes by, it leaves soot.
As I run on,
I open like a drawer.
Spilling olives, all over a lawn.
The organ plays,
As Pluto stands alone and cold.
The small places surround me,
As if to consume me.
The water trickles on.
To nowhere it does lead,
And a little small seed,
That has grown over the years.
Now stands as a dead tree.
With lull in its branches.
YOU ARE READING
Words of Time: A Collection of Poems Throughout The Years
PoetryA collection of poems from my early years, up to the present. Many are about love, but also family, friends, life in general, as well as the struggles many of us face as we discover ourselves. #Wattys2016 #Wattys2019 *Note: Stories with an asterisk...
