Little King of Sorrows


Racing Hearts


Time is the shifter.
I too a young drifter.
Beginnings and ends.
Tuning corners and bends.
Walls painted over.
A Victor dawns clover.
A spec or a racer?
Or Stop. Watch. Embracer.
The blur of a coupe,
Threw my head for a loop.
Smoke lingers;
drifts and then parts.
Track laced with scars,
And tread marks of hearts.

Submitted: Friday, March 15, 2013
Edited: Saturday, March 16, 2013

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  • Amanda Laurent (3/15/2013 9:09:00 PM)

    I really enjoyed your poem, especially the two lines, A spec or a racer / Or Stop. Watch. Embracer. Skillfully composed! (Report) Reply

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