bubbles and leaves, leaves and bubbles
when the bubble of enlightenment bursts
and the euphoria has all but worn off
will we see the forest for the trees?
will the hand of judgment clap?
who will mirror back the mirror of temptation
if not creation's powerful thread
the Sistine Chapel is a labour of love
under the I that never sleeps
and the poet is a vagabond with nowhere
hearts trembling with autumn leaves.
You're a poet...and you know it!
1 post • Page 1 of 1