Journey through time
has may traffic lights to blame
They blink their rusted eye lids
slow things down
and throttle our vroom.
People don various hats
Decide everything on this route
Free left. One way.
Stop. Go. No Entry.
But often a poem crosses the line
and lands you just fine.
has may traffic lights to blame
They blink their rusted eye lids
slow things down
and throttle our vroom.
People don various hats
Decide everything on this route
Free left. One way.
Stop. Go. No Entry.
But often a poem crosses the line
and lands you just fine.
No comments:
Post a Comment