From the very start
right before we left London
on my way to say
my farewell, the cart
trampled by the horse, I find
humbling, the fun done
even to pitch hay
versions of the real, I seek
even in the grind
remember the child
yesterday, I could not sleep
since no dreams were mild
trauma, make a peep
and lose a whole week, too meek
remember, to talk
too troubled to walk
No comments:
Post a Comment