Oak tree
I sit here beneth my oak tree, utterly alonewith a book in my lap and a pencil in my hand
I write great stories of adventures untold
and of knights and heroes who die for their land
Yet the loneliness which eats me from inside
cannot be calmed by the stories which to me become alive
this is a true, great divide
which I must cross to become free
Free from fantasies and awoken to the reality which surrounds me
I must find a friend, anyone to share my loneliness with
tell my tales of bravery and they will see
even though I sit here utterly alone, I hunger for something else
I gaze upon the blue horizon wide
then I sit up and begin my stride...
Poetry by Sabrina
Read 601 times
Written on 2006-10-04 at 20:58
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