Treasure Island

Jack Growden

(1997 / Townsville, Australia)

Thunder


Alone on a pinnacle
When the thunder rumbles,
His wavering spirit
Earthboundly tumbles.
Desire becomes forlorn.

His legs stammer and tremble,
Stiffening nigh like lead.
Though thunder is never seen;
The woes are in his head-
As his path is one well-worn.

The thunder is a scapegoat;
Or a mirage rather,
Conjured by a troubled mind
So the peak seems farther,
Though it is the same each morn.

Submitted: Sunday, February 09, 2014
Edited: Monday, February 10, 2014

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Copyright Jack Growden,2014

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