After putting together Light, Dark and Hope, I found myself writing like someone had fired the starting gun. This was the first poem that seems fit for sharing.
Master Work
Put together all wrong
though no green palette,
thready scars or ugly bolts
reveal the nasty talent.
Somehow I'm still wrong.
Somehow they still know.
Perhaps my limbs are stiff.
Perhaps my words are slow.
No comments:
Post a Comment