Slip and graze your lucent hands.
Fall and rip your cream wings.
Stand on both feet, grassy lands.
Face the wind and cry.
Trip and scrape your face.
Lay and stain your fortune-clothes.
Awaken, wipe your eyes, and embrace.
Grip your lip and try again.
Poetry by John Ashleigh
Read 782 times
Written on 2005-11-07 at 19:28
Tags Hope  Enthusiastic  Perfection
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