Click to enlarge.Brown water murmurs
and churns,
its current
tugging fretfully
at the willow branches.
Come with me.
....
A boy on a red bicycle
hurrying to reach
his future
anxious to overtake me,
saying excuse me
pedals by.
....
I move aside
and watch them pass.
4 comments:
Bah. Disordered prose, indeed!
This is lovely, lovely poetry.
Dale. Thank you. From you that is a compliment. x
Excellent. 'A boy on a red bicycle /
hurrying to reach / his future'. What a great line.
Ah, Dick. Thanks.
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