short poem (Remove filter)
Property
It doesn’t matter how many years I have passed breathing oxygen
What matters is my urge to play with the wind
as I oscillate through the swing
And the force with which I exhale out my laughter
when those voices tickles my senses
And I feel as if I am still roaming around
In the streets of my childhood
Somewhere looking for those pebbles
That were actual treasures of my li...
Monday 8th October 2018 1:52 am
Recent Comments
prakhar dhama on The Evolution Within
1 hour ago
Landi Cruz on Gun in the fridge
2 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on Woke
6 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on I could see myself doing this job.
6 hours ago
Jon on New Life
6 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on Save the children
6 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on Draft Dodger
6 hours ago
7eVen on Melancholy.
6 hours ago
Mike Bartram on Kim Phúc The Napalm Girl
6 hours ago
leon stolgard on INTO INCENDIARY MARTYRDOM
7 hours ago