|
|
back to poem list
|
next poem, previous poem
|
| Beat |
4/3/2000
|
Trickles down like rain.
The old man taps his foot to the tune of his song, his song he once knew.
The old man relives the pain.
Tapping his beat again.
To feel the scream inside his head.
He lives the message of empty love.
Full of high cries and long lasting forgotten memories.
Never there but only for a moment.
The confused old man still taps.
Beating his foot on the ground.
Aloud in his head yet contained in only his mind.
To find the beat of the tap of his foot.
Clutter scatterbrain!
Refrain from making mistakes.
He thought the trickle so smooth flows down like water.
From the top of your mountain's precipice, the highest of high points.
To the bottom, the low, the end.
The old man's foot slowly curves inward to sleep for all eternity.
|
|
|
|
|
|
[use > to go next and < to go previous. tab and shift+tab can also be used]
Copyright © Mirrorglassball 2009-2024
|
|