Poetry Blogs (american dream)
You only really win, having lost.
On the front lawn, all is identical until you notice it.
Every other blade you see its 50 shades greener than your own.
Those shades depend on light. Those blades gleam off light refracted.
Who has the light?
Every day you look, you stare, you glare
with a drink, with a book, with a chair, with a care.
Your care, carelessly, mi...
Sunday 4th January 2015 10:42 pm