Quicken Poem by Tajma Hall
Quicken
this deadly force
produce winds
the discontent
cord a constant
of other day
we pick the field
a breeze
though the park
is in shambles
a contrast
we pick the pieces
a joy to proclaim
we carry on
the evolving
beat of rain
wheel
pound our face
skull the land
until a night
sleep tight
as starry eyed
the post description
yet mark a future
in driving home
buckle up
can save lives
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 9:51:36 PM # 1.0.0.1119
