Dynamism

All action, still, in my own mind,
I look at pictures of the beaches
On which I would lay, the mountains
I might choose to scale, but what
Would be the point of such adventures,
If you couldn't come? You say you
Can't, so I won't go. I might have
Not gone, anyway. My journeys
Will be like our love: images of
What was action, fixed within my mind.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 39 times
Written on 2014-07-20 at 13:06

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