thus the grand

thus the grand was left
to its own unmaking
a wishing tree was planted

he plunged deep and died
where there are no remedies
just a pain called love

the night was rolling dark sea
over all our endings
with bizarre still here eyes

graft an impossible dream
to a homeless heart
and see a well-fed smile

dibble the earth and fly
birds are ticking in the bushes
do not speak of hands




Poetry by Bob
Read 574 times
Written on 2016-01-25 at 23:33

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