glass sky
I flail and I flap
with my pale white wings
I stretch and I reach
for evanescent things
I try to catch sunsets
in my bony hands
I try to save the rainbow
in my mental lands
I search for times past
of sheer child laughter
which I tried to remember
both before and after
moments and people
I never fully feel
because I always make notes
in a little book made of steel.
Poetry by C-F Haegring
Read 767 times
Written on 2012-02-12 at 22:23
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