Hand in hand they raced,
creating a world of their own
where the roads laid low, narrow,
leading towards the farthest star near the moon.
This world failed to change
for it was born from the green their house was built
and rose with the sun,
into a labyrinth of masked secrets.
Running down the paths built.
Through plush carpet
or even shredded crystals,
they never slowed down, never stopped.
Fighting through scorching summers
when the sun would be fierce
enough to leave scars
from sandy battles by the beach.
Surviving the winter kisses
of snow that would prick
their rosy cheeks
after nuclear wars
with friendly enemies.
Time held no meaning,
for the hand on the clock
became a digital number
that ran out of battery
in their wonderland.
Back to back they traced each others steps,
living off the smiles they shared.
They had adventures that no other would have imagined.
Through innocent promises
they stitched up their own nightfall
under which they could rest their eyes
into a new slumber;
where they would meet to create a whole new paradise
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Bloodline by Alejandra Berber )
- A mourning heart, Didith Marcelo
- Golden Moments, Col Muhamad Khalid Khan
- Nothing to recover, hasmukh amathalal
- Peaceful drive, hasmukh amathalal
- With A Statue of Lord Buddha, Toured I F.., Bijay Kant Dubey
- Mountpleasant, Mark Heathcote
- Today's Poetry Full of Propaganda & Prom.., Bijay Kant Dubey
- They Say, Rachel Glassman
- Do Not Wait For The Morrow, Rachel Glassman
- Snapshot of a Mass Murderer, Paul Hartal
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