...Out Like A Dry And Wasted Lang Where Fear Begins To Grow... Poem by RIC BASTASA
...Out Like A Dry And Wasted Lang Where Fear Begins To Grow...
you know how time runs
like a sprinter
at first it does not bother
you, the busy man with all
his art and politics combined
like a bouquet of flowers for
a wedding day, but then the
flower girl has become a bride
and your hair has thinned...
Saturday, April 4, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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4/24/2024 8:55:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
