Touching Delicate Torching Plams Poem by jerome moore
Touching Delicate Torching Plams
Reaching my hands out
I hold fire in my palms.
Touching delicate things
destroys a piece of my mind.
i put my hand on the orange silver strands of earth
and watching them gingerly blow my mind,
turning red over orange then black etc
smoldering, when like a spring breaking
I hear a rolling trolly car with cold and shiny bars.
its overcrowded...
Monday, May 20, 2013
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4/23/2024 6:51:15 AM # 1.0.0.1119
you write poems just as me check my poems too