Captves of our own minds - yet realists all of us.
Hours of waiting . . .
Waiting for what never comes . . .
Death?
A snippet of pleasure
Here and there.
A shaky grab at life -
The bitter taste of tomorrow.
We lay our head on the pillow
Dreaming the days away.
Condemned to solitude:
Prisoners of the imagination.
Poetry by Realist
Read 238 times
Written on 2006-06-17 at 09:45
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Prisoners
Barren moments lay discarded.Hours of waiting . . .
Waiting for what never comes . . .
Death?
A snippet of pleasure
Here and there.
A shaky grab at life -
The bitter taste of tomorrow.
We lay our head on the pillow
Dreaming the days away.
Condemned to solitude:
Prisoners of the imagination.
Poetry by Realist
Read 238 times
Written on 2006-06-17 at 09:45
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
